


Legends of the Force Book 1: Dark adapted eyes

by AzureAngel2



Series: Legends of the Force [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aliens, Caporeia, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Dark Magic, Elves, Force Ghosts, Force Sensitivity, Français | French, Gaelic Language, Italiano | Italian, Latin, Misuse of the Force, Multi, Necromancy, Occitan language, Portuguese, Post-Apocalypse, Religious Conflict, Sith Holocron, The Dark Side of the Force, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie Children, cloning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:33:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 93,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureAngel2/pseuds/AzureAngel2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When I saw Kylo Ren in his rage while watching Episode VII "The Force awakens", an rose old questions in me again: Are hate & anger a Skywalker family inheritance? Does the dark side of the Force really push somebody away from beloved ones? Or is it more about ones own choices? </p>
<p>Pondering on that, I altered slight bits of an original plot from an old fan fic of mine that I thought would have been told already.</p>
<p>Here it goes: The time framework of the story is set during the Clone Wars, but the story itself is played out long before the Old Republic even existed.</p>
<p>Anakin Skywalker, enraged about fellow Jedi General A’Sharad Hett, touches a snippet of the past. He gets on an unwanted mind trip into the past.</p>
<p>There is a girl with a staff. She stands on a dune, gazing into the desert. Her step-brother is with her.</p>
<p>Reader Warning: Please excuse my weird English! I am German. English is only my Second language!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

The confession of his dark deeds on Tatooine has not been easy. But Anakin is not prepared for the wordless answer, that General A’Sharad Hett gives him. Without haste, the older Jedi removes his mask and reveals himself to be Human. Just like that.

A mixture of shame, hatred, confusion, and curiosity runs through Anakin. To focus on the Living Force, on this very moment, is not an easy task. In the blazing midday sun of Aargonar his burning eyes focus. They are drawn to the Tusken’s tattoos.

There are lines that move like snakes over hollow cheek bones, tiny spots where darkness seems to gather into a mighty force. Other lines lie still, like a predator waiting for a victim.

Those tattoos in particular remind Anakin of something, or better to say, of somebody: Asajj Ventress, one of Count Dooku’s Force-sensitive Dark Acolytes.

 With a shiver Anakin, shrugs that thought away. He does not wish to be reminded of his first duel with her on Yavin 4. Nor does he intend to call an even older memory back into his mind: the Sith apprentice Darth Maul attacking Qui-Gon on Tatooine. The face and body of the Zabrak also had been tattooed with ancient symbols which gave evidence of his complete dedication to the discipline of the dark side of the Force.

Anakin sighs as bad memories that rise to the surface like a Gouka Dragon.  
With wobbly legs he walks over to Hett, sits down next to him. Hetries to clear his dry throat a bit.

Despite that gruesome sound, Hett does not look in his direction at all. He seems to be lost in his own thoughts while his fingers play with a leather chain that Anakin has not seen before.

“A dark shadow skirts the edges of the Force,” Hett mutters to himself, clutching on to something that looks like an amulet.

The wind brings the stench of war. Anakin shivers.

“This token was given to my mother K’Sheek by her adoptive mother,” Hett says, barely audible. “It has been in the clan for ages. It once belonged to a warrior queen who led the Tuskeninto great glory.”

The word ’queen’ makes Anakin’s heart flutter. It reminds him of his beloved wife Padmé and all that is still good in the universe.

“We Tusken have not always been living on Tatooine, and we had a different name before that,” the Jedi Master tells him in a very soft voice. “Our people have always been warriors and herders though, living together with their flocks and respecting the ways of the desert.”

Anakin does not care for the history of the monsters that led to his mothers demise. Nor does he care for the desert and its cursed heart. “I don’t like sand,” he hears himself admitting for the second time in his life. “It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.”

Soft chuckling fills the air. “Yet you are desert-born like I am.”

“I was born in the depths of space. On a slave ship. I am sure of it.”

Hett looks Anakin deep in the eyes. “And with whom was He angry for... years?” His words sound like a reverent quote. “Was it not with those who sinned, whose bodies fell in the wilderness?”

The past is a place dangerous place to visit. Anakin will not stand it for a second time today. Instead he lowers his head and concentrates more on the amulet at hand. It is a very simple yet elegant thing. Very much like the Japor snippet that he gave Padmé so many ages ago.

Hett continuous talking, but Anakin pays no heed. He gets lost in the curves of the amulet.

Time loses all meaning as he is sucked into a past that is not his own. His fingers cramp closer and closer around the amulet.

Suddenly, there is a sand dune. And standing on it a girl with a staff, all by herself.

 

*************************************************

 

**Chapter 1:**

The dune sea is beautiful to behold at sunset. No sand dune is identical to another. Time is meaningless here and change subtle. The sand makes everything equal. Even strong individuals are humbled by it. The circle of life and death is rapid.

I hold on to my trusty bamboo staff.

My step-brother chuckles next to me. His full name is Vicomte Luçien Ankoù, but I just call him Luc.

I just love to be out in the open desert, especially here in the sanctuary of our favourite oasis. With a smile I close my eyes.

Carefully, I begin to listen to the stories that the wind carries with it.

The never-ending intrigues of the serail are very far away. So is the ducal pride, all of my five step-mothers. They are the meat-bringers, the killing machines of House Ankoù.

I open my eyes again and watch the invisible hands of the desert wind stroking over the surface of the salt lake. The feathered leaves of the date tree tremble in the evening air.

At full daylight, the L’œil du ciel mirrors the caramel coloured sky beautifully. In the weak light of the twin moons, that are already rising in the East, the lake will look more like drop of spilled lamp oil.

I lean my staff against a rock and raise my arms high above my head. A soft mewl escapes my throat as I stretch my body lustfully. Then, I dip a foot into the tepid salt water. “Are you coming?” I ask, looking around. Of course, Luc is hiding to tease me.

For many, many heartbeats I wait for a satisfying answer, but only hear the sound of the wind.

Finally, I shrug and go straight into the lake. “Well, as you wish, my brother.”

His lean body hits the water next to me. I scream out with joy and surprise. “You scoundrel!”

“Yes, my beloved desert rose?” Luc purrs.

Giggling softly, I try to hit him. But, as usual, he is too fast for me. With the lightness of a belly dancer, he whirls around me. “Be gone!” I say with a grin.

“It is very hard to please you, my sister,” Luc starts to swim around me in circles. “First you are desperate to get me into the water and now you wish me out of it again. And people call me moody!”

Full of love, pride and admiration I look at him. Even relaxed there is so much raw power emanating from him.

In height Luc towers over all other guards. He is a giant. When I stand face-to-face with him, my nose fits comfortably into the small hollow of his chest. He is broad shouldered, yet lithe and graceful. Unbound, his hair reaches until his chin. It is glossy and pure black, resembling rich silk. My fingers flex with the urge to touch it. Even in the dim moonlight, his tanned skin has a golden gleam about it.

Since the rites, Luc has to hide his face under the war mask of a gardien, a protector of the homestead. I miss his warm smile, even though it is still reflected by his impressive eyes. Their blue colour is very unusual, almost hypnotic. But it is his voice that holds the greatest power of all. Though it is as rough as the crumbled face of the hamada, the stone desert, it is more melodious than a sitar can ever be.

Playfully, I splash water into his face. “I am a woman. Therefore it is my right to change my mind quickly.”

Luc laughs out heartily, a sound that makes me tremble all over my body. “If you were a woman yet, I would have to treat you like a sacred goblet. We could not make such a night trip any more.”

It is unfair of him to remind me of the rigid rules of our people. Physical contact even between siblings is forbidden once a girl turns into a woman. I never understood why that is, even though Luc tried to explain it to me over and over again. The Holy Scriptures contain so much nonsense. Perhaps when they were written down their laws were essential to the survival of our people, but times have changed. And so have our people.

“I want my womb to be as infertile as the Outer Regions.” I smirk. “Nothing shall ever change between the two of us.”

A frown mares the space between his brows. “Never ever say something so silly again,” he states, a reprimand in his tone. “It is a blessing to be able to have children.”

I think of our common siblings and shake my head. “No, they are just loud, annoying and greedy.”

His lips tighten and he stalks forward. The frown turns into a scowl.

Instinctively, I back away. His gaze burns a path on my skin until I shiver from its intensity.

“Oh, Isabeau!” he says in a quiet, angry voice.

Most of the times Luc calls me by my given name, he is about to lecture me. I hate that. My spine stiffens.

“In the dark ages, chaos and murder ruled our world,” he scowls. “Without the Holy Scriptures, we never would have survived. Make no mistake about that.”

I do not like religious talk like this. Nor do I like Luc to be so serious. Since he has been made chef de la sécurité he has changed so much. Even his visits in the serail have become as rare as the fairy-tales he used to tell me at bedtime. It is a miracle that he is out in the open desert with me tonight.

“Please spare me!” I beg him. My nerves tingle. He can be so rigid when it comes to history and religious issues. “The silly Star Wars with the Ophidiae are over since centuries. But this is our only common night out this month.”

His gaze hardens at the name of the reptilian race of our neighbour planet. They are his sore point, always have been. If he could, he would kill them off one by one. “They are still out there, misusing the gift of the Living Force.”

The Force, that ancient energy web which holds the treats of the universe together. It is not that I doubt its existence, but it means nothing to me. I am self-sufficient and bow to no one, except to Luc who deserves my love and respect.

 _“Behold,”_ I mumble, my eyes cast down. _“I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.”_

Luc loves the Holy Scripts, sees them as his sole guide line in life. My spontaneous quotation seems to please him. When I look up again a smile twitches the corners of his mouth. “At least you are not an infidel or a complete heathen, little sister.”

Very gently he reaches out for my face, takes it into his large hands. The heat from his palms is slightly irritating. It seems as if they are on fire. His scent taunts me. As usual he wears a touch of spice that is not overpowering. It complements his natural scent, gives a tantalizing hint of his virility and outdoors activity.

Lately, Luc is lethal to my senses. It is not that I am smitten by him, but he turns my world upside down for some reason. Most of the time I do not understand me or my feelings any more. That angers me. He is my big brother. Just being near him gives me a measure of comfort, of protection even. He is my touchstone, my favourite shoulder to lean on. It has always been that way.

Of course, I honour papa Alezan the way that I should. But I do not love him with all my heart.

The ducal pride and their offspring do not interest me in the least. They are shallow, dishonest creatures. Many of them would smile sweetly at you while slowly drilling a knife into your intestines. They smell wrong to me, in their perfumed robes.

In the desert you do not trust your eyes. You rely on your nose to navigate, especially during the prevailing winds at day time.

********************************************************************

While standing close to the flames, Luc dries me with a blanket. He neglects himself as usual. I wish he would take better care of himself. Very often I have witnessed how he fails to meet his own needs completely. He works too much, is completely absorbed in being there for others. This cannot be healthy.

His fingertips dance over my skin without really touching it. He also does not look at me, while he is busy. His expression is blank, his eyes indifferent.

“The past is never dead, Isabeau!” His eyes glitter with a fierce light that I cannot interpret. “The Tjiehenet family will pay for all the war crimes they committed.”

The Tjiehenet family. All of them children to the Plumed Serpent. Mighty Force benders, most of them. I have seen them in historical illustrations. Fierce she-warriors, dressed to kill. In military costumes, tunics made of spiny oyster shells, they trampled over cowering prisoners. I cannot help but to admire them for their efficiency, their skills in battle. It is not that I am in love with the enemy, but I respect them.

For a moment Luc simply stares at me, his eyes burning. I start to wonder what I have done to offend him so much. I am so confused by his mood and demeanour. The past seems to be a dangerous place to go to, especially in a conversation with him.

“Please get dressed now!” he bites out. “You should not get a cold. I will make a decent cup of coffee for us in the meantime.”

Quickly, I rush towards my clothing, checking it for scorpions and other unwanted invaders. Then I dress myself layer by layer.

My entire garments are wine red, my favourite colour. It is also the colour of Clan Riwalan, my mother’s people. She died when I was very young. I hardly remember her or my other blood relatives. The only memories of my early childhood, that I have, circle around Luc.

“You tend to forget these on purpose, don’t you?” he muses, interrupting my thoughts. In his hands rest a small wooden box that I knew too well. Slowly, he opens the lid.

With unhidden distaste, I stare at my jewellery set of white gold. It consists of a large number of bangles, ankle bracelets, rings, two ear plucks and a necklace with diamonds. Even though I do not care about such riches, my five step-mothers have made it quite clear to me that it is my duty to show off the wealth of the family. Yet for me all those jewels feel like restrains. They belong to a world that I dislike pretty much: the serail of the Ankoù homestead.

“Would you mind putting them on for me?” Luc begs me so nicely, that I can not resist his plea.

“If you are willing to lend me a helpful hand, I certainly can.”

His hands move with certainty and speed. Within no time I am wearing the entire jewellery set. “You look beautiful,” he compliments me.

“I usually do. Even without those… chains,” I point out.

For a brief moment, I see his face in the bright moon light, ashamed and sad, before he pulls me against him.

“Isabeau,” he murmurs, sounding choked. “These are gifts of recognition and love. You are not a household slave, that needs chaining. You are my sister, always will be.”

My voice is thick with emotion when I find the right answer. “Just because it pleases you.”

He throws his head back and laughs. A deep, throaty sound that vibrates over me, sending pleasure up my spine. I wrinkle my nose, giving my best to look miffed.

********************************************************************

Our two loyal pack animals are tied to a date tree at the edge of the lake. They have been bred in papa’s own stables. He has the finest eopie under the twin moons. They are as fast as the desert winds.

Gracefully, Crépuscule bends her milk-white neck down when she sees me approaching. I return that very favour and bow in recognition. Eopies are proud creatures, easily offended. Dealing with them is always a question of fine manners.

When I look up again the mare is on her knees. Now I can easily mount her. The leather of the saddle creaks slightly when I reach out for it.

I actually hate to ride Crépuscule with a full harness, but papa insists on it. He calls it a matter of security. I find it more annoying for the mare herself. Even though she has not been born under the free sky, I feel ashamed to let her carry the burden of a leather saddle and a holster.

Luc passes by casually, bends and kisses me lightly on the cheek. “Silly me, I always thought you enjoyed riding!”

At times I find his ability to spot my thoughts frightening. “What?” I gasp.

He searches me with that vivid blue gaze without touching me. “It is not the nature of your lovely face to hide what you are thinking. You should practice in front of a mirror. Our honoured mothers do and they are mistresses of deceit.”

“Bah!” I exclaim. “Mirrors are instruments of vanity and in some cases… vain. Have you ever come across a mirror in the dune sea? What need should I have for it? I cannot ride it. I cannot eat it. I cannot drink it. See, it is an unusable item after all.”

He bows courtly. “You truly belong to the desert, my wild and beautiful sister.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Beautiful. Me?”

“Well, I spot a girl of fourteen with skin like shimmering bronze. The proud way she holds herself makes her bigger than she actually is. She has a lovely face with high cheek bones and a very small nose.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Amazing, as nosy as she is, this nose should definitely be as big as the snout of a eopie.”

Crépuscule makes a neighing sound as if she understood each single word that Luc just said.

“Your slanted almond eyes – set in humanoid features – show clearly that you are a Lidérc with a trace of human blood. There is no white in those eyes and your pupils are almost round due to night time. Your hair has the colour of a chestnut tree. Normally it falls down your back in soft waves, yet at present it is towered up with the clasps I gave you as a birthday present.”

Argent, the brother of my own mount, suddenly moves behind him. The dark-grey animal pushes Luc slightly forward with his entire head. The impatience of the hot blooded stallion does not seem to bother my step-brother too much. He moves on with a casual tone.

“And there is a bindu on your forehead – a red crescent moon – showing that you have a very high position in the ducal homestead.” His mouth twists ruefully. “This very high position also comes with a lot of duties. Duties which you dislike as much as your hair dislikes to be held up by clasps. Yes, you should indeed waste no time in front of the mirror to look like a presentable lady. It is pointless.”

Before I can blink, Luc is in his saddle and strides past me like some sand devil.

With a raised fist I get my bamboo staff, quickly fasten it to the saddle and mount Crépuscule. “You will regret your words, brother. Wait until I get hold of you!”

********************************************************************

When I had been but a wee kitten, Luc had told me that the slow love making of the sun and the wind created the hamada. That was of course long before any pure blooded Lidérc ever set his paw on Sapuhru. Some of those giant rocks are more than three hundred feet high. Pink and lilac sandstone have mixed with countless shades of brown. But at present nothing can be spotted of this stunning beauty. Only the starlight and the face of Sodalith herself guide us and our steeds home.

When we reach the small tunnel like canyon that leads into Montségur, I let out a little hiss. This blasted tunnel makes me claustrophobic each time Luc and I return from the dune sea. It is not that I fear the tunnel itself, but all what lies behind. Only Luc’s earlier jest makes me ride on.

The fifty feet high façade of Montségur suddenly rises out of the semi darkness. Symmetric ornaments, mostly squares and concentric circles, have been carved into the stones in the time of the foundation. Hundreds of salt crystal lamps, as big as my clenched fists, produce a homely orange glow on the monument. The crystals, nested in niches, get their energy from the sun reflectors that surround the city.

Nomads never leave a trace on their journeys; if they do, they want to mislead their enemies. They would ride behind one another in order to hide their true number. City folk is by far too eager to leave proof of their existence behind. I believe that which you do not need will kill you and that luxury begins with a Lidérc wearing a robe.

My fingers play with the bridle.

During day time, an energetic defence shield guards the entrance. But at this time of night, only two gardien of the Night Watch are present. They greet me and Crépuscule politely. I bow back graciously, wondering over the unmistakeable hint of fear in the air.

Why was it that people are always afraid of my noble and clever step-brother? His fame for being a merciless teaser and a boring lecturer must have spread throughout the city.

I ride into the widely stretched marketplace of Montségur that is overcrowded with citizens.

Argent stands at the edge of the plaza all by himself with no Luc in sight.

I am about to dismount Crépuscule when a gloved hand presents a salt rose to me.

“If you want to be a good huntress, you need to be faster and have better instincts,” Luc sniggers. “Your prey might escape you otherwise. Or even worse, outwit you.”

I grip his left wrist as hard as I can. “And I feel like making you swallow this present.”

“That’s the spirit.” He grins, carefree. “But if you could let go of me for now, the people are watching.”

Actually everybody is trying to avoid looking in our direction, but before I am able to point that out to Luc breaks off the physical contact between us. He mounts Argent again.

Respectfully, folk make way for us, bowing as deeply as they can. Luc nods here and there, and greets some folk by name.

********************************************************************

After a while the odours and sounds of the market lie behind us. We steer our eopie mounts through the nightly Montségur. Not talking we ride along windowless façades of rock apartments which are nestled close to one another. Most buildings in the city have three stories linked to one another with staircases.

Being trapped in a stone cage with thick iron doors is not the life I am born for. Especially not with the doubtful luxury of foreign words, the ducal pride around me. I can feel the truth of it deep inside me. There is this echo in my bones, from a life spent outdoors so long ago.

“By Sodalith and Calme, I hate them!” I mutter behind clenched teeth. “I hate the lot of them.”

“You are as jumpy as a young eopie that learns to walk.” Luc chuckles behind his war mask. I bet his azure eyes are alight with amusement. “Hum, must be the traces of salt on your skin. You should definitely have a bath in bantha milk when we come back.”

It is a profane thought for me. The morning milk of a fully grown bantha cow is enough to feed a desert tribe of about twenty people. I will never understand how the ducal pride can bathe in it. What is wrong with smelling of the desert?

“You sound like your mother Flor,” I complain. “I bet she will make quite a scene, when I enter the serial. She always finds something to criticise about me.

There it is again, this sad and forlorn look that I cannot explain. This is not the first time that I ask myself if there is something amiss between him and his mother. An old pain that poisons their relationship. “Then let maman scold me, too, for I smell of salt and old water as well,” he replies.

Suddenly, a stench basically explodes in my nostrils. I sniff around, inhaling the air as much as I can. What is that strange sensation?

“Might I lend you a handkerchief, sister?” winks at me. “It seems that you might have caught a cold tonight.”

Perhaps he is right and I just have a cold coming on. My blood roars through my skull with unexpected force. I never get ill. Perhaps this is why my body acts so crazy.

Without warning a hooded figure steps straight into my way.

A wild sound escapes my throat.

Alarmed, Crépuscule rises and attacks the stranger with her hoofs.

My fingernails turn into sharp claws within a few heart beats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “The Battle of Jabiim, Part 4”, the fifty-eighth issue in the “Star Wars: Republic” series of comics (December 17, 2003) by Dark Horse Comics  
> "Star Wars, Episode VII: The Force awakens"(2015) , a movie by the American film maker J.J. Abrams & the Walt Disney Comany   
> The Holy Bible, New Testament, Luke 10:19 KJV  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia   
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	2. Chapter 2

Luc turns his eopie stud Argent, stirs him between me and my prey. _“Bandia dhuit. Cén chaoi a bhuiltú?”_ he says in a very casual tone.

My eyes fly wide open. Every little inch of my conscious self is aware that Luc just has used the language of the old enemy.

The alien creature in front of us seems equally puzzled. A pair of brown slanted eyes gazes at him, blinking perplexed.

Something deep inside me wants to rip it open from head to toe, splatter its insides all over the street. Only Luc’s gloved hand on my shoulders keeps me at bay. He engages the creature in a polite conversation that I cannot follow. My nerves prickle with each word that is exchanged.

The alien reeks of urine and other unpleasant things, that can be found in the gutter. Above all it definitely has a strong alcohol problem.

While Luc goes on talking to the creature as if it would be a long lost friend, I narrow my eyes to check out its filthy clothing. It is not wearing a decent trouser. The thin, hairy legs are covered by some sort of woollen sari, which has very funny patterns. It is too short. Just knee-length.

“Why does it wear female clothing, brother?” I pipe up. “Is it gender confused?”

Luc goes on talking, hanging very relaxed in his saddle. But I know he heard me. His ears are way better than mine. Always were.

I press my lips together in dismay. In general, he does not ignore me like that. He always talks back. It is not that I am the centre point of his universe, but I deserve at least some attention here.

After a while I focus my eyes on the alien again. It is not wearing any foot wear at all. As if dune scorpions and the nightly cold are non-existent. That is more arrogance than I can bear.

“Thanks for reminding me, Isabeau!” Luc exclaims happily. He bends over and takes one of his riding boots off. He throws it in front of the alien. The other boot follows immediately. _“Fáilte romhat!”_

The alien kneels in adoration, muttering more strange sounds in its annoying language.

Luc laughs lightly, before he answers, _“Déanfaidh mé é agus fáilte. Ná habair é.”_

Then he gives Argent a soft squeeze with both legs. The loyal eopie sets in full motion immediately.

I am baffled. “That is it? We leave it alive? Help it to pollute this city? What is wrong with you, brother?”

Once more Luc gives no answer, chooses to ignore me completely. I have witnessed this sort of behaviour against household servants only.

Hatred builds up in me. With a loud roar I hurl the salt rose. Not towards Luc, but towards the alien. At the very last moment it reaches out with its thin, spider leg like fingers. Just to catch the rose against all odds.

“You are a verra excitable little lass, no?” it asks in Basic, the interplanetary trade language.

The new space port of Montségur brings us the scum of other planets. I always feared it would turn out this way.

Before I can come up with a biting answer, another robed figure appears. Under a large hood a pair of violet eyes shine cold and considerate, their gaze drilling into my skull. “Mo náire!” the newcomer states.

The hair rises on my neck and scalp. Then the earth shifts under my feet. A white passage opens itself in front of me. I step through it.

_**Endless mountain peaks, covered with a strange white blanket, surround me.** _

_**More of the white substance falls from the bitter cold skies.** _

_**High winds howl like mad animals, claw into me.** _

_**There are high stone towers.** _

_**Masses of creatures with pale skin swing swords in sheer desperation. Their hair is long, black and unbound, flowing the eerie winds. Among them are some who hold on to little wooden staffs, muttering words of destruction. My instinct tells me to go for the throats.** _

_**Then the relieving command is given. We get it through the Unifying Force. One of our superior generals speaks straight into our minds.** _

Suddenly, I am back in the saddle, my hands cramped around Crépuscule’s reigns.

I blink several times, trying to process what has just happened to me.

Nobody pays me any heed, not even Luc.

I have no idea where all those confusing impressions came from.

With shaking hands I shade my eyes for a brief moment, wondering if this night had any more strange surprises for me. To be honest, I can not take any more. Perhaps I should just return to the open desert with my beloved eopie mare. Out there is peace and tranquillity. The city is but an overcrowded place, harbouring vermin from the other planets of our densely inhabited sun system.

The two alien creatures discuss with one another still. I tune in.

_“Cén fhad atá tú anseo anois?”_ the newcomer asks.

The drunk nervously moves its spider fingers through the mass of blond hair and grunts. _“O mo chreach!”_ complains the newcomer, removing its hood by accident.

I stare at a bold head full of ugly scars. A long time ago somebody has taken the scalp on solemn purpose. I am annoyed it was not me, because I also would have taken that head, too.

The most appalling thing is the colour of its skin though. It is milky white. And I know with a grim certainty that my teeth should be inside that throat, tearing the Breath of Life out of it. Under no circumstances it must be allowed to utter a magic spell and I know it is full of them.

Before I can jump off Crépuscule’s back, a well-known odour tickles in my nose.

My step-mother Marquise Flor Goañv, donned in her camouflage suit and high leather boots, marches towards us. She has the self-conscious step of a chasseuse, an honoured huntress. Her face shines with the inner fire of a satisfying hunt. A discrete odour of blood surrounds her. Two dead baby womp-rats hang over one of her shoulders. The big holes in their skulls prove that the slingshot is still her favourite hunting weapon. To see greyish brain tissue shine through the open bone surface makes me dizzy with hunger.

“Good evening!” Flor exclaims with a gracious nod to the two creatures.

Now that she stands close to me, I can see that her hair is unveiled and piled up to a sophisticated hairstyle. Her bindi is a crescent moon. Three drops of blood fall into it. It is the sign of her high rank in the harem. She is the main huntress of the ducal homestead.

“Maman,” I speak as politely as possible. After all this time, which I have spent with her, this word still does not come very easily over my lips. Whether she is disappointed or angry about it, I do not know. She seldom shows her true feelings.

“Isabeau, my dear, how kind of you to keep our guests busy with a decent conversation.” Her broad smile reveals bloodied pieces of meat between her teeth. “I am so sorry that I am delayed, messieurs, but my hunt in the canyon took more time than I suspected in the first place.”

The aliens are as shocked about her invitation as I am, but Flor goes on speaking with a disarming friendliness, while Luc wordlessly takes the dead animals from her and binds them to his saddle.

“My dear Viscount O’ Maoilrian, and dearest Monsieur Ahearne, if you could follow me now. I bet you are thirty and would like to retire long before the Hour of the Last Dance is upon us.”

What is Flor talking about? Papa would never ever let these filthy things inside the homestead. Their stench will take many moons to wear off. Besides how can she know their names and titles?

As I open my mouth in protest Luc shakes his head gravely, moving a finger towards his hidden mouth.

“Er, that is very kind of you, Milady”, the blond creature says in audible panic, “but… see we are not fit to dine among such fine and er,… outstanding cats as you and your family are.”

Instead of tearing his silly head off my step-mother laughs. “Do not worry about that, Monsieur Ahearne! I must insist that you and His Lordship experience all the comfort that my husband’s bathes and quarters can offer.”

The magic weaver grants Flor a hateful glare, but says softly “I chose not to use my father’s clan name any longer, Milady, for I was cast off his household seven hundred and fifty sun years ago. There was a little… disagreement about religious matters between the two of us. Let us say, I left in a hurry.”

“Oh forgive my unspeakable mistake!” My step-mother claps her hands together in a sophisticated gesture. “However, the night is still young. Let us go to the ducal homestead now.”

Flor makes an inviting gesture and the aliens follow her very slowly.

“What the hell is going on!” I roar as Luc tries to pass by with Argent. “Who are those creatures? Why do we have to take them home? They are both full of lice and smell like garbage bags.”

“Lower your voice, now!” Luçien’s voice hit me like a lash. He never, ever had spoken like this to me before. I cannot stop my eyes from filling with tears, but he chooses to ignore that.

“Both men are guests under our roof now,” he moves on heatedly. “Behave yourself, young lady! You will also honour your belated mother by accepting the rights of a guest. Guests are not to be harmed or insulted in any way.”

Unasked, he takes hold of Crépuscule’s reigns.

“Come now! While maman retires you will take her place at papa’s side and entertain our guests. You insulted them and now you are obliged to show them you can do much better.”

My next words break out of me with blind anger. “I will do nothing of that sort. Send somebody else to do a slave’s job!”

His eyes remind me of two crescent moons. “Papa is right; you are indeed a spoiled little thing, unable to take over the household responsibilities yet or to fully understand politics.” Luc sounds grief stricken and worried. “If anybody is to blame for your lack of education it is me.”

With a little growl he lets go of Crépuscule and rides on. I am left behind speechless.

********************************************************************

Black shadows envelop me. The winding street seems endless. I feel so sore inside and my eyes burn from my unshed tears.

What sand-fly has stung Luçien? Why is he suddenly so strict to me? What have I done to deserve this? Once the Elves had be hunted down by our people like womp-rats. So why invite them to dinner?

Besides, Ciall O’Maoilrian and his companion Ruadhan Ahearne are weird and queer beings. One has no hair and the other one is too hairy for the standards of their own kind. I have seen pictures of Elves in books and also in my own unexplainable visions. Why are the two men not with their own people? Are they cast-outs?

With a shriek Crépuscule stops in front of the homestead, because two lances are pointed at us.

“That is not funny!” I yell at Zouave and Papillion, two true-blooded cousins of mine. They both are guarding the entrance door.

“Oh, it is you, Isabeau,” Papillion sniggers. “Sorry we did not recognize your scent straight away. We thought a water monster from the salt lake had hijacked poor Crépuscule here.”

I put my hands on my hips. “There are no such things like Asrai! The lake does not even contain any fish. It is a salt lake, boys. Hardly any creature can live in that.”

“Awww, isn’t she a cutie, brother?” Zouave purrs. “I wish I could be such a young and naïve kitten again.”

“Look close! She is more human than Lidérc. That hairless skin! She does not even have a tail or…!”

Before I can give those two clowns the sharp answer they deserve, a female voice roars over the yard, “Leave the girl alone, now!”

Despite all, I have to smile.

Solitaire, papa’s fifth and youngest wife, looms in the entrance way. Normally, she looks happy and smiley. Especially when she is playing endless games with the kittens and sings to them. But at present she is as cold and distant as a barren rock. Her unusual green eyes shine in a rather frightening way.

All the young ones love the warm-hearted Solitaire and her funny dread locks. She looks older than her actual sixteen years. This cannot be said from the other grown-up women in the Harem, but the ducal pride ignores the Off-worlder – _étrangère_ – most of the time in a good mannered way. She wears but a tight pink tunic with thin straps instead of long sleeves, a lovely contrast to her darkly-tinted skin.

“Shame on you, Zouave and Papillion!” Solitaire comments with her strong, deep voice. “Isabeau is a member of this household and an honoured huntress soon. For useless scum like you she will risk her life in the canyons over and over again. You owe her respect and an excuse!”

Her bold speech makes me gasp, but the two guards remain cool and just grind their teeth.

“Very well then,” Solitaire purrs. Then she moves with unspeakable grace, speed and certainty. She throws Zouave down on his back and holds him down with her right foot. Papillion is lifted up by his throat.

My ears prickle.

The Unifying Force. Solitaire uses it.

“Thank you, honoured mother.” Luc’s voice makes me jump. He appears suddenly next to my elbow. “It is unspeakably kind of you to remind my cousins of their place and defend my sister’s honour!”

Solitaire grants Luc a piercing look and lets go of Papillion. Without a comment, she vanishes into the homestead.

“You must be tired after all this excitement tonight,” Luc says to me tenderly as if we had no argument earlier on. His gloved hands strokes over my skull. “I better bring you to bed. We can talk tomorrow, when I am much calmer and you are also less annoyed with me.”

The softness of his voice makes me melt like a piece of butter in the sun. My bones feel indeed heavy and I very, very tired. “Yes, perhaps I should…” I start, but then my voice trails off for I am smelling blood.

“Oh, no!” Luc gives me a glare, which I can not figure out at all. “It finally happened. Call mama! She is with papa, talking to our guests of honour.”

I see Zouave and Papillion stiffening in a very formal way. And then the unthinkable happens: they leave their guard post and hasten into the heart of the homestead.

While I am still staring after them, Luc lets out a deep sigh. “Never forget that I love you.”

He reaches out for me, but before he can fully embrace me Flor’s commanding voice cuts through the dusk. “Do not make yourself unhappy, my son! From now on Isabeau is untouchable for you and all other men in this house hold.”

I want to scream out in protest, as Luc gravely turns away from me, but Solitaire’s hands support me in unexpected ways. “Let him go and mourn for the little girl that he will lose tonight!” she whispers.

And then I am surrounded by a sea of female hands and laughing voices.

********************************************************************

Hours later I find myself leaning against a spiky stone of the hamada. Solitaire kneels next to me. Like anybody else she is wearing a camouflage suit. It is an unusual sight for me. I just know my young step-mother in leisure wear, that always reveals too much of her womanhood.

“Slaughtering womp rats does not teach Isabeau a real lesson about the hardships of life!” She complains under her breath.

Flor appears next to us, her face stony. “One more word and I throw you down into the rat pit.”

I turn my attention away from the two quarrelling women and focus on the whomp rat colony. There are at least fifty animals. It is complete madness to attack them all. We can never eat so much meat. It is a waste of food and life.

I stare at the ghastly beasts. The biggest of them is two meters wide with sharp teeth and claws, that make me swallow hard. Most of his companions are sleeping, because they are nocturnal animals. But some of them have their eyes wide open anyway and their bewildering iris shines with a strange glow in the semi-darkness.

“Enough of this,” Flor snaps, impatient as ever. “Tonight we must test if Isabeau has the ability to be a good huntress.”

“What, you let her go down there all by herself? With no weapon?” Solitaire explodes. “What sort of ritual is this?”

“You are an _étrange_.” Flor’s slanted eyes, filled with reproach and disgust, remind me painfully of Luc. “I do not expect you to understand the ways of our people.”

Tired of this pointless discussion I move away, closer to the nest. There is only one way to end this conflict.

I rise and pick up an old eopie bone that I spotted earlier. It is a femora, a thigh bone. This will do. I hold it high up like a staff.

If the womp rats have not heard us before they are surely aware of my presence now.

I am strangely calm, as I start walking.

After some heart beats, I am aware that my other step-mothers hold their breath. Even Solitaire and Flor have stopped talking.

The entire nest stirs and aggressive hisses are directed at me, but the womp rats do not attack me. They just sniff curiously.

Everybody can smell what is wrong with me tonight. This is so embarrassing.

A huge male whomp rat jumps straight into my way. He is an ugly thing. His hair has turned grey at some spots. There are scars all over his body. After a closer scan I can see that parts of his ear lobes are missing. They are not more than shreds of skin. One of his eyes is also gone. A front tooth is clearly splintered. My instinct tells me that this is the boss.

I smile grimly.

The old battle veteran has come out to answer to my flimsy challenge. His claws hit me more than once, cutting through the fabric of my camouflage suit and leaving ugly marks on my skin.

I have to admit that he is damn fast and flexible.

Luckily, I am able to pay him back with my auxiliary weapon. That makes him more and more furious.

Due to a stupid stone lying around, I stumble and lose my balance. The eopie bone breaks into two uneven pieces. I clutch on to the bigger one.

_“A importância de equilibrio”_ , I can hear a female voice say in the back of my mind. _The importance of balance._

The male is above me in no time, piercing his healthy front teeth straight through my left arm.

I howl in blind pain, but have enough sense to drill my fist into one of his immense nostrils.

He does not like that at all. Driven by reflex he lets me go.

With my still functional arm, I reach out for the very stone that has caused me to fall. It is heavier than I thought it would be, but my anger and pain grant me credit. With a furious roar I throw it straight into the healthy eye of my opponent. He lets out a screech that makes the entire nest tremble.

Automatically, my hands reach for my ears, but my hurt arm stops me acting stupid.

“Finish him off, now!” shouts Solitaire from above. “Do it, cherida!”

Her voice fills me with the confidence that I need.

“Stop him screaming, or our ears will get damaged permanently!” Solitaire commands. _“Arpão de Cabeça.”_

Not only does this strange command make sense, it is frighteningly familiar.

I drown everything out – the ear-ringing sounds the old bull makes, droplets of blood coming from my nose, the other rats, my nagging headache.

With full force targeting I spring forward, throwing my entire body into the head butt and target the stomach of my opponent.

Even fully blinded the rat bull is a danger. His body is a lethal weapon. And I should not forget that he can smell me. His elastic tail swings round my neck, tightening around my air pipe. I drill my claws deep into the flesh of the leathery rat tail, but this time the pain does not distract him.

I gurgle, seeing black spots dancing in the air.

How could I have been so stupid to ignore this very weapon? Even if a true-blooded Lidérc has a tail, it is useless in combat. It is more helpful when sneaking around in dark places.

I feel how the old rat bull drags me closer towards his snout and murderous teeth.

His jaw stands wide open.

With a last effort, I ram the fragmented eopie bone into his throat and embrace the darkness that claims me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia


	3. Chapter 3

I wake to the cracking sound of a close-by camp-fire. Above me the moon goddess and her sweet daughter stand high in the nightly sky. They bathe me in cold and serene light. My body is wrapped in a large womp rat fur.

“There has been an awakening,” somebody laughs.

I sniff carefully, almost shy.

Solitaire. My head jerks into her direction. She is about three feet away from me, still wearing her hunting garments. An eopie is flocked next to a single palm tree and looks at her full of curiosity. My step-mother leans over the camp-fire, brewing a strange substance in the cooker.

_“Welcome back, She-Moon!_  
_We’re glad to see you again._  
_Another cycle has passed_  
_Another month gone bye_  
_And our lives have moved forward._  
_Today is a new day…”_

My heart skips a beat or two. “You know THE prayer.” Then I remember why that is and I smirk. “So it is true. Once we were your slaves. Genetically modified jungle cats who fought your Star Wars until you tried to dispose of us on this desert planet.”

“There is more to that than a master-slave arrangement.” She looks honestly hurt. “Your people belong to the Holy Isle of Cunabula, too. Together we are a nation of warriors. Take _capoeira_ , for example. It can only be taught with mutual respect.”

_“Capoeira,”_ I echo. This word stirs something deep inside me. It is like a desert snake uncurling from its sleep. A sleep that has gone for too long.

“Have you forgotten so much about your childhood?” Solitaire looks mortified. “As a member of Clan Riwalan you do not recall being brought up in the _Quilombodos Tufãos_? The wild heartbeat of _berimbaus_ and _pandeiros_ as they sounded together through the desert night?”

I have no clue what she is talking about, but there is this indescribable urge in me to have her speak on. A certainty that her words are the clue to my past as much as my future.

I try to wiggle myself out of the blankets and notice that she has tended my battle wounds. They have been washed out with salt water and smeared over with a honey paste that contains several herbs. She has covered her composition with layers of cotton cloth.

“Take it slow, your powers have still not returned fully,” Solitaire advises me.

My head is swimming with fatigue and pain, but also with a strange excitement. Whatever she is brewing it was almost calling out to me. “Where is everybody?” I babble. “What about the old womp rat? Why are we here in the dune sea?”

“One question after the other, _cherida_! Have a drink first.”

“A drink? Is that what it is?”

Solitaire turns away from me. Her right hand slips into a leather glove before she takes the kettle from the fire. Then she pulls a generous amount of her brew into a mug. “Judge for yourself. But be careful, it’s hot.”

Taking her kind warning into account I take the mug from her and drink as slow as possible.

The substance has a strange and rich flavour, dark and full of secrets.

A big smile widens her sensual lips. “Once upon the time, in a galaxy far, far away from here my human ancestors lived in jungle not unlike the mother jungle of Draconis. They had found a delicious bean that they sacrificed to their gods. But it could also be made into a beverage known as _xocolatl_ , a word meaning _´bitter water´_ in their language.”

As far as I could judge from the fire light and the moonshine that drink was almost as dark as the night sky. It was thick and creamy.

“This beverage can clean the mind and open new horizons to you, cherida.”

With every sip my thoughts drift further and further away. It is like falling into a spiral and travelling with it through eternity.

“Mother Nature is the most clever and talented architect of all. In the run of evolution she has created countless spirals, cherida. Galactic mists. The destructive powers of a tornado. Whirlpools. Resting snake bodies in the undergrowth of the jungle. Fern leaves. And glittering spider webs between the branches of the trees. Even the DNA molecules have their chair in the dance of creation. She is a unifying force that binds the universe together in its very essence.”

Her voice trails off and I feel like falling even more. I close my eyes for a while and when I open them again, I see my hands resting on my belly.

But something is wrong.

_**My hand is white, has gotten six fingers instead of five. A strange triple-spiral is painted on my skin. The pain that I feel is so strong that I suddenly understand why the ovaries of a woman are formed like tears.** _

_**I hear the monotone voices of many women that were accompanied by drums, rattles and flutes.** _

_**There is a smoke all around me. I seem to be in a cave, deep in the womb of the earth. Despite the fires that burn in this bewildering place, darkness sneaks around. It seems thousands of years old and turns the cave into a never-ending night that is without life and stars.** _

_**From the corner of my eyes, aching from the poor light and smoke, I sense a movement. I have to put much effort into seeing anything.** _

_**A woman comes towards me, bent by the burden of her age. Seen against the strange stone formations around us she is nothing more than a dwarf. But when she comes to stand directly in front of me, she is tall and proud. She wears a yellow sari with the sophisticated elegance.** _

_„Ave, reginae devinae!“ **she bellows in the ancient language of the jungle Ophidea.** Greetings to You, divine queen!_

_**I feel not like answering the hag, silently suffering from my pain. I do not want her to know how much I suffer. Not even with my thoughts. But I doubt that I even have enough strength left to utter a single syllable. They will have to cut me open, I know with grim captaincy. There are no other possibilities left. Eighteen hours of misery and the Unifying Force is not with me any more. Two babies are still stuck inside me.** _

_„Videsne anguis anguem parvae?“ **the hag asks me, a gentleness in her voice I did not expect.** Can you see the little snakes?_

_**I lift my chin a tiny bit.** „Video“, **I answer slowly.** I see._

_**Then, seven freshly born snakes lie in the ancient hands of the hag. None of the snakes looks like each other. Each one has a different shade and colour than its siblings.** _

_**When the snakes slide down my chest, I shiver with anticipation. The tender bodies carry the smell of the world above with them.** _

_**I close my eyes and remember, a life that is not my own. The memories are overwhelming. Decay and the smell of flowers surround me. Fresh earth is under my feet and throb, full of life. A sunbeam lost itself in the semi-dark of the lower leaf region. The trees talk to me. Birds are singing and apes are teasing one another.** _

_**With a soft groan I split my legs apart and all gates open.** _

_„Pange, lingua, gloriosi corporis mysterium, sanguinisque pretiosi, quem in mundi pretium fructus ventris generosi”, **the hag calls out with unimaginable joy.** Praise, oh tongue, the secret of this body full of splendour and the priceless blood that, for the betterment of the world was spilled._

_**Instead of a penetrating baby scream there is just silence in the cave labyrinth.** _

_**My baby girl is born dead. I will not have that. For I possess the power to cheat death. The Unifying Force better be with me this time.** _

********************************************************************

“A dark light in the Force,” I mumble. There is a bitter taste in my mouth. I must have bitten my tongue.

“Don’t let this turn into a habit!” Even though Solitaire speaks these words with a soft chuckle I am annoyed by all means.

“I do not like falling unconscious non-stop, either!” I snap and throw the womp rat fur off me. My anger makes me hot despite the chill of the desert night. “You sound as if I would enjoy that very much. But I actually don’t.”

My voice breaks. I shake violently, hardly able to control my feelings. My fingernails have turned into claws. And my teeth are dangerous daggers now, ready to drill themselves into any possible flesh.

I run a shivering hand over my eyes.

Somehow I have lost the grip on my entire life within a few moon hours. There is one thing yet, that startles me more than it actually makes me angry: I start seeing, feeling, tasting and hearing sensations that are not my own. Am I possessed by a demon? Did my short encounter with The Others infect me with their dark magic? Or did Solitaire feed Midi-chlorians to me on purpose?

“You can do remote viewing!” Solitaire suggests, no shame whatsoever to spy on me mentally. “As for your other worries...”

Remote viewing. So my misery has a name to go by. I am damned certain that I will not be able to tear it out of my chest or my tormented mind. It seems to be a gift unasked for. Considering it, it might be a skill that other Lidérc might not approve of. Especially not my pious step-brother.

Overtaxed, I start crying like a baby kitten.

“Hush now!” my step-mother coos. “Pick up the fur, come back to the fireplace and have a cup of coffee. Perhaps giving you hot _xocolatl_ wasn’t a very good idea from the start.”

“So why did you?” I blurt out.

All the strange sensations of the strange woman giving birth flush back into me, embarrass me to the very core of my being.

Solitaire’s hands on my shoulders are surprisingly gentle. “I am sorry that I did, Isabeau. Truly sorry. I wanted you to retrieve your lost memories of Clan Riwalan.”

I let my young step-mother embrace me, rock me back and forth. While I let her comfort me, the dark-skinned Ophidea shows me the same tenderness that she only reserves for the young ones of the homestead.

********************************************************************

After a long while, when my unnecessary and foolish tears have dried, Solitaire starts speaking again and I show no rejection. Her need to explain herself seems to be strong.

“Drinking _xocolatl_ with red chilli pepper is part of the female initiation ritual. This was not always so, of course. Long before the Ophidiae mixed with the human refugees from a far away star system, their daughters drank the blood of their slaughtered enemies. It was the first god queen that changed this rite once and for all. We still drink the blood of our enemies though, but only in the heat of battle.”

Solitaire leads me to the camp fire. I am made to sit down next to her on a thick bantha hair pillow.She puts her cup down and crawls over to me. Her right hand begins stroking my cheek in a very intimate, loving way.

“Every form of life is holy. My ancestors did all their best to survive since they arrived on Draconis. There were immense sacrifices. A lot of things went utterly wrong. Some harm cannot be undone fully. But life went on. There is a force greater than us, a force that is inside us and around us. It binds the universe together.”

There is a sweet comfort in her words.

I remember the six fingered hand on a swollen belly, ready to give birth. “That was her, right? Your crown princess. Why did we forge a soul bond tonight, Arcānā and I?”

“Did you?“ Solitaire’s words sound more like a comment than a real question.

Desert nomads forge a very strong bond to their flock of banthas and eopies. This is the real ritual of womanhood. House Ankoù has deprived me of that when they took me into their midst. For some strange reason destiny has forged another bond for me tonight. With a person that is not even on this planet.

“The Unifying Force works in mysterious ways!” Solitaire muses thoughtfully. “You seem part of House Tjiehennet now. It is your destiny!“

I make a face.

Neither cursed Midi-chlorians, House Ankoù nor the Draconian crown can claim me. I am a daughter of the crossroads, desert-born. “It is not my destiny!” I mumble while Solitaire walks away from me. “I forge my own way, I walk a new path.”

********************************************************************

For the rest of the night my young step-mother remains silent, just staring into the dancing flames of our camp-fire. Her bewildering green eyes are empty, bare of any emotion. She seems to be lost in her own thoughts, in a place where I am not able to reach out to her. So I swallow down all the nagging questions that I still have left in me.

When the morning rises quietly in the East, Solitaire starts to build up a humble hunting tent. It will shelter us from the heat until the cooling shadows of the evening hours will claim their reign back. I would have loved to help her, but she insists that I should rest my hurt arm.

“Better concentrate on healing, _cherida_. I know what I must do. You have your tasks and I have mine. Teamwork is the best way of survival in the dune sea.”

For the following sun hours I fall into an uneasy sleep. The pain in my arm gives me weird dreams.

I see ancient battlefields splattered with blood and tears. Pure Lidérc, who wear spiked collars round their necks, tear Elfin warriors into pieces.

Then I find myself wandering around in the presence. There is a frightfully green landscape with plants that are higher than any palm tree could ever be. There is also a lot of water. It is part of that endless forest. The voices of children call out to me, teasing me lovingly.

A woman, donned in the colours of Clan Riwalan, walks between the trees. I cannot see her face, because she wears a war mask like a man. She gestures me to follow her to a majestic pyramid. It towers the entire jungle.

**“The children of the Force, they need you!”** the woman says and I recognize her voice to be my mother’s.

********************************************************************

I am glad when I wake up to the soft shapes of the erg in front of me: star dunes, crescent dunes, linear dunes, parabolic dunes. It is noon. A deep sigh of relief leaves my throat. I am home and safe.

In the meantime Solitaire has managed to set some coffee water for us. I am amazed to see that we also have a _samovar_ with us. We are surprisingly well equipped, but I tell myself that a hunting party of House Ankoù would never leave the homestead without certain gadgets and luxury goods. The majority of my step-mothers are spoiled brats. I bet my youngest one is just well prepared.

Shading my eyes from the bright sunlight, I watch Solitaire drinking her _café_ in slow and delighted sips. I wonder why she remains in the open desert with me, instead of doing her duties as the current lady of the homestead. This moon month she has been chosen to share _papa’s_ chambers with him. That also includes bringing refreshments to his guests and giving the orders to the household staff. Officially, she is not to go on a hunting party.

“I told your father that your nomad rite of womanhood was by far too important to me,” Solitaire says out of the blue, while pouring me a cup of coffee. “He had to let me go then. Flor took over for me.”

Nervously, I take my café from her. I have a nagging question to ask. “You don’t love _papa_?”

She does not answer.

“Well, at least I know now why you felt responsible staying with me. You care for me.”

A dim smile lights her dark face.

“My first guess was that you did not wish to stay under the same roof with papa’s guests of honour, considering the ancient feud between your people and them.”

Solitaire looks surprised. “What guests of honour?”

“Two of The Others.” I try to remember their names. “I think it was a certain O’Maoilrian and a man named Ahearne.”

I jerk back when Solitaire’s irises change from emerald green to a yellowish fire. Her fangs are out.

“How dare he!” she yells, her fangs out. “How dare he!”

In her anger Solitaire is as beautiful and as frightening as a sandstorm. I stare at her with an open mouth, prepared to get my flesh torn from my bones. She raises her arms high above her head. Her own womp rat fur glides off her shoulders to reveal more of her muscular body.

I feel my throat getting tighter. Breathing becomes hard.

“Now his real loyalties show.”

Stars dance in front of my eyes.

“He will pay for this. I will make this known to my princess!”

Suddenly, my body lies flat in the sand.

“She will demand blood for it!”

Sand corns flood my nostrils and make me choke even more.

“House Ankoù is damned.”

At present I am the one being dammed. Invisible hands are wringing my life out of me. But I do not wish to die yet and certainly not that way. I gather all my strength together and press a last desperate roar out of my throbbing throat.

Solitaire’s bloodshot eyes widen. “Isabeau!”

Air streams back into my lungs. I am dizzy.

My step-mother reaches out for me, her face terror stricken. Her arms close around me. “I am so sorry, cherida. So sorry! I lost my self-control.”

I roll my eyes at her. “An... and I... al... almost my... my life.”

********************************************************************

During the next few hours I am not interested in speaking at all. My windpipe burns like fire. There is a constant nausea and my heartbeat does not settle down.

On top of all I am fed up by all the strange secrets that my young step-mother has brought along from Draconis. Being attacked by invisible powers that take one’s breath is the last straw. It is against the way of the desert

“We had no choice!” Solitaire mutters. I can spot her sitting at the other end of our sun shelter, her legs crossed. She is in her camouflage suit again.

I pretend not to be interested in her words and stare on into the dune sea. My eyes are perfectly hidden by my sun glasses.

“It was a question of survival when the refugee ship from Terra came down in the rainforest. They had to change and become one with the natives. But that brought a lot of changes to everybody. The reptile like Ophidiae were one thing, but the Midi-chlorians and the Unifying Force...”

She stares into the dunes for a long time.

“Let me be honest with you, _cherida_. The thing is I cannot claim real parents like you can. I was born without them. Some Ophidiae on the Holy Isle of Cunabula are very good cloners.”

I blink. “They are what?”

“I know that I use words and terms that you never heard before.” Solitaire is very smiley now. “Let me put it this way, there are many ways to give life to a child. Ways that may seem unnatural to you.”

I jerk around, teeth exposed aggressively. “Talking with you is like walking on quick sand. One answer leads to more secrets. No more, can you hear me? No more!”

Solitaire looks hurt and shocked.

My breath is coming hard again, but this time my own body is to blame. No invisible hand cramps around my bare throat. “Somehow I am glad that my people came here. Perhaps it was their destiny after all. Sand is pure and clean. The desert just has one voice and one face.” I narrow my eyes, looking straight into her surprised face. “Please leave me here! I can take care of myself. Just go back to the homestead and tell them I am fine. I will come back, but only when I am ready. Take the eopie! I have no need of it.”

Solitaire nods and I watch her wrapping a shawl around her face. She puts on a pair of sun goggles, mounts her eopie and both ride straight into the merciless midday sun.

“Just me and the desert.”

As soon as I cannot see my step-mother any longer, I start dancing under the desert sky. Like a sand spider I spin around, using mainly power and speed.

_“Bohémienne. Je danse avec le vent. Tourner dans le vide, vide, tourner dans le vide, vide, tourner dans le vide...”_ I chant happily. _Gypsy girl. I dance with the wind. Spin in the air, air, spin in the air, air, spin in the air..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: A Wiccan chant  
> An altered version of “Pange lingua”, an eucharistical hymnus by Doctor of the Church Thomas of Aquin (1225–1274)  
> Commands of the Brazilian martial arts Caporeia  
> Pieces of the song “Bohémienne” written by the French Canadian lyricist Luc Plamondon for the sung-through French and Québécois musical “Notre Dame de Paris”  
> Pieces of the song “Dernière Danse” sung by the French R+B artist Indila  
> Pieces of the song “Tourner dans le vide” sung by the French R+B artist Indila  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	4. Chapter 4

Only three moon nights later, more childhood memories come back to me. Each one contains clues for my survival out here. One of them is about my mother training me with a bamboo cane. Up to now I always believed that Luc has been my only teacher, but that seems utterly wrong. He just continued my training. I suppose that he knew the ways of my tribe.

The longer I am in the open desert, other memories linked to _caporeia_ surface. Solitaire spoke of this ancient martial art technique earlier on. It combines elements of dance, acrobatics and music. My mother and my aunts started teaching it to me when I turned just two moon years old. All the quick and complex moves come back to me.

The _ginga_. _Tesouras_ , various knee strikes. Avoids that are called _esquivas_. Series of rolls and acrobatics, like the _aú_.

Of course I suffer from sore muscles very soon, but I go on nonetheless. There is this unexplainable urge that drives me. The _caporeia_ techniques are embedded in my bones like echoes. I wonder how I ever was able to forget all this leverage for a wide variety of kicks and movements.

One morning I use one of the lighter cotton blankets to make a long sleeved tunic for me. I will wear it straight over my camouflage hunting gear. Normally sewing business is a pain for me, but this time the overcritical Fleur is not around to slight me. My fingers move all by themselves as my mind remembers.

Clan Riwalan had been the finest of the twelve _quilombos_. I need to make my ancestors proud of me, to honour their ways. As far as I am aware I am the only _capoeirista_ left on this planet. I should pass on what I know at some point.

When evening falls, I begin to use most of the _gauze_ bandages that Solitaire has left me in the ambulance kit. I wrap them around my arms and legs. Those bandages will be an additional protection against the heat of day and the cold of night. I am slowly running out of supplies, so I need a new and better outfit.

To find water is not too difficult, but hunting with an injury turns out to be quite an adventure. My wounds are still annoyingly itchy. The old womp-rat bull had been a worthy adversary. I will wear my scars with pride.

Choosing only little beings as a start, I go on hunting with clenched teeth next night. I still fail to throw my self-made spear, but I am able to come up with cunning ground traps. At dawn I have eight scorpions and two dune mice, enough food for a decent breakfast.

The nights and days fly by and soon I am able to make greater and greater journeys away from my humble camp. I return with little treasures like new fuel for my fire place, little snacks and new water supplies.

After an entire moon-month I am able to move camp to a different spot. There I stay an entire week, finding an even richer hunting ground and a suitable staff.

Life is perfect again, a real pleasure. I only miss my beloved Crépuscule very much. With the eopie mare things would have been a lot easier, especially the travelling and transport matters.

********************************************************************

The longer I stay in the womb of the dune sea, the more I am convinced that the way of the town people is wrong. They are getting too soft and fat with water. Personal comfort and luxury goods from Draconis have become a great issue for too many households. Finally, the Ophidiae have found a clever way to tame my people, to enslave them once more. They have turned many Lidérc into loyal pets. I do not wish to end up this way, especially not after my strange encounter with the future god-queen. So I do everything possible to steel my body and soul.

I also do not like being infested by Midi-chlorians. I always regarded myself to be as clean as desert sand. Clan Riwalan always stayed off the temptation that the Force offered. They fought their wars by the laws of tooth and claw only. And so will I.

During the following weeks, I increase my muscle exercises, ignoring all signs of pain. No softness is allowed to be a part of my life ever again. This is a solemn promise I make to myself. I must turn into a deadly weapon, defeat all my enemies.

One night I reach my favourite oasis again. I take off my clothing as quickly as the bandages allow me and run straight into the water. With strong movements I reach the middle of the L’ œil du ciel rather quickly. Then I turn on my back and let myself float on the salt water.

With a satisfied yawn I cross my arms behind my back and gaze up to the glittering night sky.

It feels good to live in a world without stone frontiers once more. I am a bohémienne after all, a daughter of the crossroads. Only the desert winds know my next destination.

Even though I had to be grateful to papa for sparing me so long ago, his way is not mine. It will never be. Even Luc has to learn this. Besides, he is not my true brother. Matin was, my twin. We had been inseparable.

Suddenly, a comet passes by, dragging a long tail of light after it.

I smile and make a secret wish. “Once we will be together again, brother. Just have patience. Now is not the time.”

The pleasant smell of spice biscuits and fresh coffee with cardamom powder tickles my nasal hairs without any warning.

In shock I tear my eyes open. How long have I been gone? A quick check of the night sky tells me that it has not been within a simple eye blink.

Calme, who had shone on my way to the oasis, is already gone. But her mother, the by far bigger Sodalith, is still to be seen. Had I really been in this water for four hours, remembering Matin?

“Dinner is ready, milady!” Luc booms into the serenity of the night.

Hastily, I swim back to the shore.

The smoke of a camp fire waves like a torn flag and all of my oaths are gone. In Luc’s company I am nothing but a piece of bantha butter in the midday sun: soft and easily handled. It has always been that way. Like he puts a spell on me.

“Brilliant! I am rather hungry!” I cheer.

My step-brother walks slowly towards me with a turned away face. I end up wrapped in a long towel that smells of jasmine blossoms. All the time his fingertips stay away from my skin in a very obvious way. His ice-blue eyes rest on a nearby crescent dune.

I take him by his wrists and shake them with all my might. “What is wrong with you? Look at me! Touch me!”

Now his eyes meet mine. “You are not a child any more, Isabeau!”

I cannot stop crying with anger, even though I know it is but a waste of water. Instead of giving out to me about it, Luc lets it happen, but he holds me at distance. I am not able to fling my arms around him.

Suddenly, my heart begins to flutter. It feels like pictures flow into my mind with the ease of sand corns that rush through an hour glass.

_**Tents of red-dyed Bantha skin snuggle against the star dune.** _

_**The happy laughter of women, drinking tea together, rings in my ears.** _

_**Eopie are flocked together, being taken care of by six children that look familiar.** _

_**A boy is smiling at me, while a masked man hands out porridge to us. They both talk to me gently.** _

_**Then the sounds of a battle are all around me, making my teeth ache and my head spin.** _

My field of vision contracts to a dark spot, then disappears altogether. I am plunged into a bright void.

_**“Do you want to live?” I can hear Luc say from far away. He sounds strange. His deep baritone has changed into a soprano. “Do you want to live?”** _

_**I nod vigorously. At least I feel that I am doing so. I am bereft of my eyesight. A blinding vision of white light envelops me.** _

_**“Take my hand,” Luc begs.** _

_**“Aren’t you a bit too young for bridal kidnapping, little Vicomte?” I hear somebody else snigger.** _

********************************************************************

With the greatest effort I force my eyes open and blink. I cannot really say that I have lost consciousness, but I feel strange. Stretched between the past and the present. I try to concentrate on the latter. When I speak at last, my voice seems slow and drugged. “Where are we?”

“Still at the lake.” Luc’s voice is so gentle that it almost makes me break down again.

To my surprise he does not wear his war mask any more. Without it he looks so young, so vulnerable. My forehead rests on his chest. His heart beats too loud and too strong. Instead of allowing his heat to seep into my veins as usual, to be the remedy for my illness, I push him away with all my might.

He looks genuinely startled.

I must not touch him or be touched by him in any way. Not right now. It is too dangerous to fall back into old habits.

Inhaling deeply, I curl my fingers into tight balls at my sides. Then I let the horrible images taunt me again. The bluntness of their substance has quite an impact on me.

“Border conflicts? Commercial agreements with Amnion? Is that why _papa_ killed them all?” I burst out. My whole body shivers with blind rage. “For money he slaughtered my entire clan like rodents? Like filthy Elves?”

Luc seems taken aback. I eye him sharply. He actually looks as bad as I feel. Tired. Exhausted. Emotionally spent. There are deep lines across his temples and dark smudges under his eyes that his make-up cannot disguise.

His gaze sharpens and he says evenly, “Your mother was a stubborn woman who wanted to do things her way. _Papa_ gave her several warnings, which she chose to ignore.”

“The desert belongs to everybody!” I yell, my cheeks aflame. “Nomads cannot be forced to pay taxes for using the caravan routes by accident.”

“I hear your mother talking,” comments Luc rather amused, his eyes alight with mirth.

“How can you remember the words of my mother, when even I, her own daughter, have nothing but blurry pictures of her in my mind?”

Even though I feel like crying, a part of me accepts all the war actions that have taken place. Life in the desert is a constant fight for survival. “I can’t remember!” I howl in pain.

At once Luc is at my side, crushing me to him with a growl. “Shush!” he begs me. “There is no need to give water to the Dead. Keep your precious liquids to yourself!”

Any reluctance against his touch evaporates. I melt into him, my fingers sinking into his mane.

“It shreds me when you cry,” he confesses. His fingers flex restlessly. “So don’t.”

“But you cut me off. Shut me out,” I protest.

He exhales audibly. Then his grip on me tightens. He rubs the tip of his nose against me. “You cannot stay a sweet, innocent kitten forever. By the laws of our people, I have to let you go. I don’t want to. But this is not about you and me, Isabeau.”

This time he says my name with reverence and tenderness, not with the usual strictness.

“This is about what is right in the face of the moon goddess and her virgin daughter,” he moves on. “Always do what is right in Her face, because the ways of our people are not Her way. She is a pure, inerrant vessel of the Living Force. We are not.”

“I do not want the Living Force. My mother never wanted it either. This is why Clan Riwalan had to be wiped out, right? Because some of us believed in the theory of the Unifying Force. Like the god queens of Cunabula.”

“There was no other way for Alezan. He did what he felt was right.”

Then Luc falls silent, holding me hard against him. I can feel the pulse beat in his throat, hammering like my own. There is a conflict in him. One that I do not understand. That wears me out as much as it bothers him.

********************************************************************

After a long time, Luc lets go of me. I feel a pang of regret immediately, feel somewhat bereft, even though I know I should not.

“Let’s go back home now!” he announces and starts trampling out the camp fire to underline his words. “I wanted to be home with you before dawn.”

Home. For him perhaps, but not for me. Houses are the graves of the living. I am more an outside person. My fancy clothing and the heavy jewellery will not change this. I need the thrill of the hunt, the daily act of survival. Only then I am whole. Pampering will kill me in the long term.

“Why not stay out here once? You taking a break from your many duties and me just enjoying life as it should be,” I suggest lightly, holding up a bag of ripe dates. “With just three of these you could live out here for nine nights.”

Luc looks at me with awry curve to his lips.

“We eat just a date skin on each of the first three nights,” I explain eagerly. “And for the next three nights we eat the meat. Then we suck one date stone each night until night nine.”

“Unless we get to water on the tenth night we are going to die though,” he mocks me. His smile has turned razor sharp. “I was already aware that you have a death wish. But that soon?”

I make a face at him.

He continues to pack our belongings, changing right in front of my eyes. His posture gets different.

A sick feeling settles in my gut. My feet feel rooted to the sand.

There it is again, that distant, almost vacant expression on his face. In the past he wore it but occasionally, by now it clings to his beautiful features like his war mask.

I start to ask myself if Luc is too afraid of emotions. Not only his own emotions, but also those of others. It seems strange to me, that someone as respected and feared as my big brother should be angst-ridden in any way. He is always so poised in the society of others.

With burning eyes, I watch him put on his war mask. Furious, I claw out for it and try to tear it off with all my might.

Luc lets out a gasp and hits me in the face. It burns like pure fire.

We look at one another full of shame, but not for very long.

The desert falcon appears from nowhere, majestic and beautiful.

My hunting dagger is in the air. It hits the main artery of the animal.

_“Enderv!”_ Luc yells as he has been hit himself. _“Diwall!”_

I clearly hear his words, but I do not understand their meaning. They belong to a language I do not know.

Luc drags the dagger out of the dead body. His eyes turn tender. _“Sioul eo ar mor, sioul evel al laezh”,_ he whispers, _“Devezh mat!”_

It seems absurd but I have the impression that Luc is bidding an old trusted comrade good-bye. He presses the lifeless bird against his chest, walks to a nearby stone, sits down cross-legged. Then he starts humming a weird melody.

********************************************************************

It is more than my bad conscience that plagues me. It is the cursed silence that makes my ears ring after Luc has stopped his song. He has not sung the lyrics for very long, but every single word has made me sick. It was an Elfin language, I am sure of it.

With shaking hands I put my desert clothing back on. The bandages especially prove to be a problem at that moment. I curse under my breath.

Luc still sits on the stone, the falcon in his arms.

My helplessness mixes with resentment. A falcon is but an animal, nothing more. Food that could be eaten and digested. My step-brother is acting ridiculous.

I touch the bindu on my brow.

Solitaire would have been able to read Luc’s thoughts and understand them. But I cannot claim such bewildering powers. I am simply myself and no enigma.

A couple of moons I had been proud of my step-brother. Now I am getting more and more annoyed about the things that lurk under this surface of politeness and efficacy. How many languages is he able to speak? What else is he hiding from me?

My mouth becomes dry. “Can we please go?” I creak with a voice that is not fully my own.

Luc rises wordlessly. His eyes go right through me as he walks towards the eopies that he has tied to one of the bigger palm trees.

It feels good to be reunited with Crépuscule. She is such a gentle and understanding creature. Her presence calms me on the way back. My hands constantly rest on the outline of her slender neck.

When we reach the small canyon that leads back to Montségur, I wish for the high stone walls to give in and bury all of us.

In the very narrow inner yard of the homestead our ways suddenly part. With a muttered excuse Luc turns his steed around and gallops away through the still open entrance gate.

I would have preferred another slap in my face. He has deprived me of my prey. Now I have returned to the homestead with empty hands.

My fingers grab harder for Crépuscule’s reigns. I move us further on.

A boy comes running towards us: Tourbillion, one of Luc’s countless half-brothers. He is only twelve moon-years old, but already a groom.

_"Salut la zone! Ça boume?“_ the youngster calls happily in our common mother tongue _Ronronner_. Most of the time papa encourages everybody to speak Basic only.

Crépuscule lets out a small snort and allows herself to be led away by the boy. There are not many Lidérc the proud eopie mare likes at her side. She is a wild thing that enjoys biting people.

While I make some neck exercises in the leather saddle, Tourbillion is chatting non-stop. I prefer him to do the talking to me for I am not ready to face any questions yet.

********************************************************************

Inside the stables, the smell of fresh hay, herbs and eopie excrements surround me at once. To be honest, I prefer it to the perfume loaded air of the serail. Even though is tradition to seek a sanctuary after a long, hard hunting party. It is a place that males are only permitted to enter with the allowance of the pride.

When I was still a daughter of the dune sea, my mother’s humble tent had been the serail of my tribe. I remember that now. There had been nothing more than animal furs to sit on and in the middle stood a samovar made out of copper. My mother had shared tea supplies very generously with her sisters, cousins and aunts. The women had met on a daily basis. They had told stories to each other and had sung _caporeia_ songs, accompanied by drums and flutes at times. Love, happiness, music and laughter had filled our camp.

The women of the ducal pride do not sing with one another. Even their laughter is unnatural. There is a constant competition going on. About a respectable hunt, about dresses, about the education of their children and about papa’s attention. Some leave their food untouched when a rival is in sight. They even pass on their hatred to their offspring. It is a disgrace.

Once upon a time, my mother’s tribe had been following the voices of the wind. I had learned how to ride an eopie before I was able to walk. The taste of my mother’s milk had gradually turned into that of fresh bantha milk. My body had been hardened by sand, wind and the extreme temperature changes. Even the bright sunlight had not mattered to me when I had played in the shadows of the tents with Matin.

Matin, my twin. Dust in the wind like my past. There is only the future to tread on.

“I forge my own way, I walk a new path!” I say to myself.

With ease I jump out of my saddle. I take all the time in the universe to greet all the eopies that gaze out of their boxes. I find a kind word for each of them, stroke many nostrils.

********************************************************************

Papa loves his breed deeply, perhaps even more than his five wives and his offspring. He is present at the birth of every foal. Not only does he observe everything, he takes a very active role in it. With ancient love songs he calms the females down, makes them forget their pain and agony. He dries the newborns with perfumed linen and drinking water.

When one of the eopies turns ill, he calls the most skilled healers from Calme’s temple grounds, also referred to as Ostal Blanc. He never hesitates for the costs of a treatment. And when an animal dies due to high age or a battle wound he is in rage until he breaks down crying. Then it is Luc who cheers him up again.

Luc, it is always Luc who is involved in matters of the homestead. He is mirrored in all that surrounded me. Even in these stables here, eight yards deep underground in the heart of the building complex.

I let out a hateful spit, that makes Tourbillion jerk back from his duties and earns me reproachful looks by some from some of the elder eopies. I cannot help that Luc is a plague. There is no escape at all from his almighty presence. Why has it taken me so long to see the bitter truth?

My stomach makes strange noises.

It is his fault that I did not have a decent breakfast yet. Midnight is over by now. I could not even finish the coffee that he had prepared for us. He has left the tea pot at the camp-fire. Such an act of forgetfulness that is not typical for him.

The death of the falcon must have shaken his soul very badly, but I refuse to take the blame. I am an honoured chasseuse now. Death is my business. With the corpse of the falcon Luc acted like some mind twisted vegetarian from Amnion.

I simply fail to understand him and his motives any longer. Something has changed him beyond the mascara and his war mask. Perhaps it is even more than the responsibilities of the homestead.

There are bewildering rumours. The supporters of Dealg, a god whose worship is forbidden, have formed a secret society. They call it the Brotherhood of Shadows. It is about using dark magic and weird rituals.

Tourbillion steps into my way and indistinctly I grip my lance. I whirl myself through the air, land softly on my feet again and hold the pike against his throat. “From now on: never bother me when I return home from the hunt. I am not in the mood for your childish gibberish then. Is that understood?”

He looks at me with big, frightened eyes, but I stride out of the stables as fast as I can.

Only when the adrenaline wears off, I feel sorry for the boy. It is all Luc doing this to me. He comes and vanishes as he chooses. No commitments, no attachments, no honesty. I hate him as much as I love him.

With grim thoughts in mind I bump into something rather solid and large.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, milady! I fear I got lost in this facility. May I humbly ask where I can find the man’s rest rooms?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: Movements of the Brazilian martial arts caporeia  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	5. Chapter 5

A human man fills out the small passage, bowing formally as if I am a god queen of Cunabula. He is wearing a white senator’s toga with the traditional stripe of purple attached to it. Even though he is no old man by human standards he wears a very dense beard, that has a lot of curls in it. They look natural though. It is his skin colour that is unusual. It resembles the surface of an olive. His deep brown eyes rest on me with an air of friendliness that triggers more hatred of mine.

“Learn to read a map next time, outlander!” I snap.

“Isabeau! How dare you!”

Flor’s head, framed by a half veil, pokes out of a door frame. Her eyes tell me that I had done something very stupid just now.

_“Oui, maman?”_ I ask with a trembling voice. I can still smell the human behind me, bewildered and sweaty.

“Tourbillion’s mother would like to have a word with you... among women.”

Even though it relieves me to hear that the scene between the human and me has totally escaped Flor, I feel that I am in trouble. But then I see her pupils widening. “Senator Aletheia,” she slurs. “I expected you to be with my honoured husband.”

“I fear that I got lost, milady. Alezan explained to me en detail were the gentlemen’s rest rooms were, but the passage ways look all so similar to me.”

Flor steps out of the door frame, wearing nothing more than her casual serail clothing. But she shows no embarrassment at all, but put on a big, honest smile. “This must be all very, very strange for you, Senator.”

“Yet it is charming and stunningly beautiful.”

I roll my eyes and whisper, _“Merde!”_

Flor fixes me like a hunting target. “I would feel very honoured if I can escort you personally, Senator.”

The human holds out a hand and she takes it without hesitation. I am annoyed. All this physical closeness with a stranger is not normal. And standing half naked in front of visitors is usually out of question, too. A rather strange etiquette rules this household of late. How many changes have been made during my absence?

“May I be so bold and ask the name of this young lady here?” the human requires.

Flor is nonchalance in person. “Oh, I beg you pardon, Senator. I must remind myself that my daughter is a real woman now and worthwhile to be introduced to a good friend.”

Her hand is under my chin suddenly, lifting it up in an attempt of acted tenderness. She mistakes me with an epoie foal. “This is Marquise Isabeau Riwalan, the last surviving member of her House.”

_“Enchante, madame!”_ the human dares to say in my mother language. Then he reaches out for my hand in order to kiss it. But I shake it off.

“Forgive my daughter. She is desert-born and has her own ways. Social contacts are difficult for her. She prefers the freedom of the winds and a good hunt. But she is a good daughter.”

I frown at Flor’s remark. Does she pretend to know me out of a sudden, or has she always been aware of the things that make me mad in this homestead?

The human beams at us. “There is nothing to forgive, milady.”

“Her divine majesty must be a very interesting woman to be married to, senator”, my step-mother muses.

This bearded creature is Arcānā’s husband? He could be her elder brother, her father even.

“It was a pleasure to become acquainted to you, Marquise.” Once more he bows in front of me with his unnerving honesty. “I hope we can deepen our relationship next time. But now I must return to your honoured father before my long absence causes him any distress.”

********************************************************************

The labyrinth of small gangways is separated by guarded doors. Flor and the senator are too deep in conversation to notice me. With endearment they speak about the new born babies of Arcānā.

I am still puzzled. How can a boring human be married to such a proud and dangerous alien? How old is he anyway? Thirty-four? Thirty-five?

The name of the next crown princess in line falls more than once: Adamah. She seems to be a spoiled brat, but the senator does not seem to mind that. I become to understand that he loves all his twelve children. Who could ever love a snotty toddler? Or even worse a crying baby? Perhaps Arcānā has chosen her husband because he is a fool, easy to please and even easier to handle.

After a little eternity we enter the wing of the homestead, where _papa_ spends his time when he is not at war or dealing with business partners. He is not allowed to enter the serail at all. When he wishes for the presence of one of his wives, he has to send a female slave.

As a child I had needed no invitation to visit _papa_. A fact that I have slightly abused until he had scolded me dearly. After his stern speech it had been no fun any longer to sit on the laps of his visitors and be spoiled with sweets.

When I enter the luxurious chamber with it’s mirrors and gold ornaments, I spot a familiar face.

“Hi there, lass!” Ahearne calls out enthusiastically. “Long time no see.”

Alezan rises to his full impressive height. He claps in his paws with gentle lightness. Without his war mask he looks old and grey. His fur is somewhat shabby, its radiance almost gone. “What a splendid idea, my dear Flor!” he booms. “First we had no female company and now we have two honoured huntresses joining.”

Only now I am aware what is wrong in this chamber. The pillow where Solitaire should be seated is as empty as the single cup that stands in front of it.

My eyes turn narrow.

“Lady Solitaire is not feeling well,” Papa answers clipped.

Then it dawns to me. The Elves, of course. A loyal servant to the throne of Cunabula would not share the same air with their kind.

“Well, I will send Luçien to her later on.” My step-mother makes herself comfortable on a pillow. “That will do her good.”

“If she is ill you should send a real Force healer?” I ask sharply. “Poor her., not a grave digger.”

All eyes in the room rest on me now.

“I reckon you know then where your brother is?” Papa’s voice does not match his gaze, but I do not yield.

“Grave digging.” I think of the falcon. “I am very sorry, papa, but I cannot stay in a room that is infested by humans and Elves."

A shocked silence follows me to the door and stays behind, when I close it.

********************************************************************

Getting towards the ducal boudoir gives me no difficulties. Each gardien pair on duty bows. Heavy double doors open, no further questions asked.

Finally, I come to a hold in a small gangway with brazen mirrors. At it’s very end is a small door with the golden emblem of the ducal insignia: a cat claw that reaches for a crescent moon. The claw that has wiped out my mother’s noble tribe.

My hands begin to shiver uncontrollably.

A fire storm burns down the tent walls of our camp in no time. Blood and death are spread by House Ankoù.

The head of my favourite aunt rolls by, her eyes wide open in furious anger. An unspoken curse hangs on her lips.

I lift the lifeless head up and run. I want to carry it away from further harm. But I do not come very far. There is an eopie. An unmasked boy sits on it. His cat eyes are as blue as polar ice.

I feel the urge to ram my head against the door, when the violent memories stop as suddenly as they have befallen me. My knees feel wobbly.

“ _Maman?_ Are you there? May I come in?“

She does not answer and so I push the door open, eager to sink deep into her arms and cry.

It is semi-dark inside the boudoir. Salt crystal glow globes send their weak orange light into the room. I touch one of them gently and increase its strength to the level usually I appreciate.

The bed is empty and unused, but in the air hangs a tiny echo of her presence. Solitaire has been here recently.

Due to the traditional rotational cycle of the pride it is her term to be in charge of the dynastic interests. At daylight she is expected to be in the marital bed, but at dawn she can join the other women in the serail or to go hunting in the moonlight.

I catch a glimpse of my own reflection in a bronze mirror that is opposite the bed. Even though I am not overly fond of mirrors at all, I start taxing myself.

My taint has definitely gotten darker due to the merciless midday sun. As for my cheek bones, they have gotten a sharper edge to them. The greatest change yet are my eyes. A wild fire burns in them, telling everybody that I am no harmless kitten any longer. I am sure that this message even got through to Ahearne and O’Maoilrian tonight.

Smiling, I get my golden hair clips loose and start combing my hair with one of Solitaire’s brushes. Then I take one of the perfumed tissues that a slave had put down close to the mirror. The tissues do not smell of jasmine, but of the way stronger tuberoses. I do not mind smelling of salt water and sand, yet I want to be polite towards my young step-mother.

I start stripping layer for layer, taking time with the cleaning procedure. It feels good to have the cool tissues touching my skin. Usually, I am not very fond of them, but tonight it felt right. So soft, so fresh, so clean.

After a while I grab for a greenish perfume flacon, that is standing between all the make-up and the jewellery boxes. The bottle has the form of a resting snake, being rolled up. I open it carefully and sniff. The essence of flowers, that swarms my brain like a clash of water, is not entirely unknown to me. It was Solitaire’s favourite perfume. One of the few things she has brought with her from Draconis.

I hold the flacon closer to my face. While I do so, my mind opens its gates once more.

High stone pyramids reach boldly into a rainy sky. They shimmer in a violet light. There are also giant trees with massive roots. A brownish river makes it’s way through the all-present river delta, showing no particular haste.

A blond woman, high and erect, makes her way through the jungle. She is only clad in a cotton sari as green as the nature around her. Her arms and legs have tattoo marks on them. So has her face. Each blue line makes her seem more beautiful and desirable. She smiles at me, warm and natural. The sound of her deep voice makes me happy beyond any measures. “You have been well trained, my young apprentice. They will be no match for you.”

I fall on my knees and kiss her beautiful feet. I do not mind that they are covered with mud. They are as perfect as the rest of her.

********************************************************************

When my vision starts to crumble away, I hold the flacon closer to my face, but I cannot hold on to it. Arcānā is gone.

Feeling hollow and empty beyond all means, I put the perfume away. I turn to the cabinet, in which I suspect Solitaire’s household garments.

One of her thin dresses, made of wild satin, impresses me. It is an elegant neck holder. Its colour reminds me of the dawn above the hamada. Normally, I do not care for such fancy dresses, but tonight I am in a rare mood after all.

“It fits you like a glove, _cherida_.” Unannounced, Solitaire stands in the door frame, wearing but a morning robe. The odour of the most exquisite massage oils surrounds her like a cloud. “You can keep it.”

“I... could not possible...” I start, but my voice trails off, when she saunters closer.

All my senses tell me that Solitaire is on the hunt, but I cannot move a single muscle. There is something amiss with the perfume. My blood whispers strange stories into my brain.

Solitaire joins me in front of the mirror. Her bloodshot eyes frighten me. She opens her jewellery box. “This dress goes best with this trinket here.”

I notice her raising a diamond collier from the box. “ _Papa_ will not like that.” I mumble. My lips feel so daft.

Her iris turns yellowish. “It is for me to decide what I do with my belongings.”

Not able to protest, I close my eyes and wait for her to put one of her many diamond colliers around my neck, but I then feel something sharp in my skin.

“Tonight he will finally end this dreadful farce between the two of us. I feel him coming for me.”

Her fingernails drill deeper and deeper into my neck. The grip she uses on me is unfair. In ancient times mothers had used it to carry the young ones out of a danger zone with their bare teeth.

My feline heritage takes over. I am fully hers now, and defenceless.

All my feelings for Solitaire are washed away by disgust and hatred. This is no way to attack ones prey. There is no honesty in it at all.

“Honesty”, Solitaire muses, once more being able to read my thoughts with no difficulties. “Let me tell you something, _cherida_. Honesty is an illusion. Everybody hurts. And everybody lies. Especially Arcānā. It has been so long and my path has been so dark. Darker than I ever dreamed it could be.”

One of her fingers plays with my hair absent mindedly. I do not like the intimacy of it. “But I still love her”, she says. “My mission will be completed in one way or the other.”

I cannot care less for that mission, even though I seem to be an important part of it.

The fangs of a reptile are lurking out of her mouth. I never have noticed them before. “I will give you a decent chance of survival. My poison will work slower than usual, if I do not hit one of your main blood vessels.”

Frightfully sweet pain hits me full force.

“Now it is done. May the Force be with you, even though you shun it out most of the time.”

Out of a sudden I notice my surroundings with a sharp clarity. The carefully placed ornaments of the porcelain tiles. The shimmer of the satin cushions on the futon bed. The surface of the bronze mirror. The carvings of the cupboards

And even the movements of the light.

“It is the effect of the poison, _cherida_. I need you to observe all that happens tonight in silence.”

I am dragged into the open wardrobe. Once Solitaire has put me inside, she gets me seated in a kneeling position between her garments.

When the doors are closed on me, I am swimming in a colourful sea of satin. Breathing gets more and more difficult.

Then a polite knock comes from the hallway.

********************************************************************

Through the wooden ornaments I watch Solitaire rushing towards the futon bed. She starts an enchanting song from the depths of her throat, electrifying the air in an instant with sexual yearning. The melody and couleur are those of a pure Lidérc, but there is a wilder tune to it. Something very demanding.

_„Buenas noches!_ “ I hear Luc call out on the other side of the door.

Do they have an affair with one another?

_„¡Qué calor!“_ purrs our step-mother in a very slow deep tone, that even manages to make me dizzy with lust.

_„En el desierto hace mucho calor,“_ comments Luc dryly, sauntering into the room. He still wears his travel garments and the war mask. There is sand all over him. Normally, he switches into some clean clothing when he enters the homestead.

_„¡Qué calor!“_ Solitaire turns onto her belly in a very delicate way, pressing her torso deep into the mattress while raising her backside up high.

Luc stares at her naked back, but makes no move to give into the obvious invitation to mate with her.

_„¡Coge!“_ she sighs without turning around.

_„¡Tengo lo que necesito!”_ He remains in front of her, cool and aloof.

Our step-mother presses her thighs together again and rolls around to face him again.

A blue crackling light is all around Luc. With a powerful hand gesture he sends her hurling across the boudoir like a rag doll.

Solitaire crashes back on the bed, panting hard.

“Why would you break _papa’s_ trust and your marriage vows? I considered you to be more clever than that.” His eyes are frightfully intense. “What is your true plan? To keep me away from the newborn babies? Is something amiss with them?“

Solitaire is struggling hard underneath him. “Your mind probing is useless,” she wheezes. “Come on, finish it!”

“As you wish!”

Our step-mother begins to shake uncontrollably. Blood runs out of her nostrils, her ears and mouth. Despite all, she manages to reach out in the Force one last time. Just to push the cupboard doors open. Unceremoniously, my limb body rolls on the floor.

********************************************************************

The stench of Argan oil is everywhere. I am lying on my belly. A warm cloth rests on my neck. Somebody has taken the effort to wrap my arms and legs in towels, but left my entire back exposed to fresh air.

I try to open my eyes, but the lids stick together.

There is the mixed pressure of fingertips and knuckles on my skin. Now and then a pair of hands moves up and down my spine, stretching my body carefully.

My heart begins to beat faster.

Luc, only he can massage so well.

“The golem was more clever than I thought,” I hear him mumble like a sullen boy. “I should have recognized her side plan. Her poison almost killed Isa. Forgive me, papa!”

“It is a miracle that you are not resting next to Isabeau.” His voice brings tears to my eyes. He is in it as well. “I should relieve you of some of your duties at last.”

“Please don’t, I can manage.”

“ _Chef du la sécurité_ , master assassin, witch hunter, defender of the faith. You have too much on your plate. I want you to rest now and again.”

I almost swallow my tongue at this revelation.

“I sleep enough.” Luçien stops his massage. “You had better leave. Isa will wake up soon. Her breath is becoming calmer and more relaxed already. You have guests to attend to.”

“Will you honour us with your presence later, my son?”

“I have a funeral to attend to,” Luc answers after a very long silence.

I hear papa kiss him on his brow. “I am very sorry about your loss, my son.”

“Thanks.”

A door falls shut.

Papa leaves me behind with a cold blooded murderer. And it is possible that I am next on his death list.

A towel is placed on my back.

“I am tired of this, Isabeau. Leave now, before your thoughts hurt me even more. I cannot believe that you really think I am capable of harming you in any way.”

I grab the towel and flee.

Luc is a mind reader like Solitaire. Another secret of his.

The guards outside look away in shame, but I do not mind. I run and run until I am in the stables. The eopies there give me curious looks, yet snort in compassion and sympathy.

Crépuscule is all over me when I step into her box. I cling myself at her white and gorgeous neck, sprinkling it with my tears.

It is madness to waste my waters this way, but I want to let it all out: my fears, my anger, my misery. So much has happened the past moons, too much to deal with it in any way.

My beloved eopie mare tries to lick my tears away gently, tickles me with her concerned attempts.

“He can kill people without touching them. Like a dark wizard from Draconis. And when he kills... he... he is so unnaturally calm. No, Vicomte Luçien Ankoù is not my brother. Not any more.” My cheeks are on fire. “He never really was.”

********************************************************************

From that night on I try to avoid Vicomte Ankoù as much as possible, visit all the places that force him to stay away from me. At daylight I either sleep in the box of Crépuscule, spend many hours in the bath house, or on a divan in the serail. But as soon as the sun goes down, I disappear into the desert night. All that I have with me are my hunting weapons and my camouflage suit.

Then comes an evening, when I have an antelope giving me quite a chase.

A hunt seldom takes place in the open desert. The labyrinth like canyons of the hamada offer much better opportunities. To scout out the ancient water holes of the local animal popularity is always very deserving.

Panting hard I sink down on my knees, the neck of the dead goat still in my hand. I take his blood in the traditional way of the desert. No drop of humidity is to be wasted. I hold my flacon close to the wound, watch the red stream flow out of a body that gets more and more rigid.

In between I clean the blade with my tongue. The old ram has been healthy, indeed.

I seal my _flacon_ and start taking my bait apart, bit by bit. My hands perform the old rituals without wasting any drop of blood at all. Solitaire would have been proud of me. While I dance the animal’s soul up to the stars, I say grace as my birth mother once has taught me.

_“There were but two beneath the sky -_   
_The thing I came to kill, and...”_

“Isabeau, may I talk to you?”

Alarmed I turn around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: The beginning of the Native American Poem and Prayer “The Hunters”  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	6. Chapter 6

Neither his scent nor his footsteps have announced Vicomte Ankoù’s arrival. Yet, he stands in front of me from one heartbeat to the next; a nightly shadow that comes into life.

“But there is nothing to talk about,“I hiss.

“I think there is,“he denies calmly. “Since twelve nights you have not spoken to me. And when you are not busy hiding from me, you hunt like obsessed around this region. Our storage rooms are richly filled with meat, much more than we need. You disturb the natural balance of the hamada.”

I am taken aback. “Are you _papa’s_ main hunter now? I thought that was your mother’s task.”

“I am all that serves the common wealth of our homestead,” comes his lame answer.

“So you need to be a murderer. A witch hunter even.”

Vicomte Ankoù closes his eyes. “We are both hunters for House Ankoù. Your bait has four legs and mine has two. The dark side is cunning.”

“Perhaps, but I will not return home with you!”

The black leather of his gloves produces an unpleasant sound as he makes a fist. “You are a daughter of the House Ankoù. And I want you to act like one. Your lack of discipline is quite unnerving these days. You dishonour the entire homestead with your inexcusable behaviour.”

“Are you going to kill me now?” I roar out. “Come on, only the stones would witness your dark deeds. You could pretend it was a hunting accident.”

His shock is honest. “I never could harm you, Isabeau. You are my sister.”

The words have rested in me for an eternity. They come out hard and merciless. “I am nothing more than your bait of war. This is the only reason why I am alive and the rest of my clan is dead.”

His voice shivers more than his body. _“Oh, ma petite sœur!”_ he moans in our mother language. _Oh, my little sister!_

The voices of the wind move through the canyon, whispering their stories from far away. Draconis is clearly to be seen in the night sky. A green emerald, holding ancient curses and mysteries.

At some point Vicomte Ankoù leaves. His walk does not possess his usual strength and elegance.

I bend my head in prayer again. The honour to my prey is unpaid still. I hope there will be no more interruptions tonight.

_“There were but two beneath the sky -_  
_The thing I came to kill, and I._  
_I, under covert, quietly_  
_Watched him sense eternity_  
_From quivering brush to pointed nose_  
_My spear to shoulder level rose._  
_And then I felt (I could not see)_  
_Far off a hunter watching me._  
_I slowly put me knife by,_  
_For there were two who had to die -_  
_The thing I wished to kill, and I. “_

When all the flesh, the bones, the inner organs and the blood of the ram are stored safely, I get up.

It is time to retreat to the sanctuary that I have created for myself. My own serail in the waste lands.

What Vicomte Ankoù cannot know is that I have more reason to despise him and distrust him than ever before. My solitude has not only been about finding food for the homestead. Or learning to deal with my complicated emotions. Even from the grave Solitaire has been able to communicate with me. Her calculation and planning have been superb.

It is a walk of seven miles, but my feet are as light as my heart. Finding that cave has been a blessing.

********************************************************************

The night sky above me slowly changes colour. Dawn is on it’s way. Soon the moon goddess and her virgin daughter will hide their faces to let the sun rule. But long before that I will have reached my destination.

My little serail contains no great luxuries, but all I need to survive the hot daytime hours: a thick wooden box with a large supply of _café_ , a brazen _samovar_ , enough drinking water for two moon months, some eating utensils and several wooden blankets.

Yet, the greatest treasure, that Solitaire has hidden for me in this cave, is a strange object that has the form of a little pyramid. Mysterious looking symbols are engraved all over it.

I put some honey into my tea and swing my wooden spoon around idly.

Solitaire implanted most of her knowledge and memory into this object. Only I can activate it. She tuned it to my biodata.

Holocrons were originally developed from Draconian scientists to pass the wisdom from one god queen on to her successor. But later it became common as a means of exchange in the warrior caste, too. The priesthood followed.

Due to the object that Solitaire meant me to have, I know that she has not been a mortal enemy of mine. Our relationship has endangered her mission and she had to take desperate measures to end it successfully.

I place down my tea mug and reach out for the holocron, that lies nestled safely in a blanket.

By my sheer touch it springs to life, filling the cave with a blue glow.

The small counterfeit of my step-mother, nothing more than a translucent figure, hangs in the air before me. “ _Cherida_ , you have a question? How may I serve your hunger for knowledge?”

I look down at the shimmering figure with tenderness and love. “Tell me about your mission here on Sapuhru. Again.”

“As you wish.” The small representation of my young step-mother bowed. “I have been the most promising clone that was born of the special breed. Ophidiae and Lidérc bloodlines have been crossed for me. Having no natural parents I grew up regarding Arcānā as my mother, sibling and mistress. I received not only the special warrior training of a royal princess, but was also introduced into...

“I want to hear more about the plan, Solitaire.”

The blue figure nods solemnly. “In the beginning there where two species living on Draconis: the Ophidiae and the Midi-chlorians.

“Here we go again,” I mumble.

Soon I am losing thread of how exactly these species battled with newcomers and then each other. But luckily I catch up again at the end of the story.

“... So the Midi-chlorians offered their help to link all the races in harmony if the newcomers would bring back the balance that had gotten lost at a point long before. A golden age dawned in which all of the races learned the best from one another to the better of the planet and its inhabitants”

I get up, holding the vibrating pyramid in my palms. “Is Luçien’s real father one of those last god-like beings that survived the Star Wars?”

“Dealg was not very happy with how the Midi-chlorians and the Ophidiae treated the Elves. First the sanctuary seekers were driven to the snow topped mountains, where they had to live under harsh conditions. Then the god queens decided to root them out because their unnatural long live would destroy the balance.”

The thought of the Circle of Life being attacked makes me fearful, too.

“The Midi-chlorians agreed because the powers that the strangers possessed would not share the same origins as their own,” the counterfeit of Solitaire explains, her voice even. “They feared another harsh war that would destroy the living heart of the planet once and for all.”

This talk of Midi-chlorians makes me tired and angry beyond any means. From my point of view people are gifted because of the parents heritage and not because of little parasites that swam around in the blood streams. Talent and training matter.

My eyes search for Solitaire’s. “And when you found out all the things you needed to know about Luçien, what happened next?” This is the complicated part and I am prepared to ask it over and over again, until I am sure I really understand.

“When I found out about his heritage I became to understand that my path home was blocked and that I was stranded here. Luçien moved heaven and earth to isolate me. I could send no message back to Arcānā, even though I found some of her lost agents. They had become part of the wild nomad tribes, but they are weaning in number. Luçien and Alezan see to it.”

The roar I let out aloud is fierce. Enraged with House Ankoù I throw the holocron straight through the crave. Before it can crash with solid stone, a hand catches it.

********************************************************************

The hand is chalk white and four fingered. I gasp in surprise. Annoyance sweeps through me as the holocron gleams with such an intense ray of light that my eyes feel like being on fire.

_“Cave ne ante ullas catapultas ambules.”_ Solitaire’s bodiless voice proclaims with a mean chuckle. _“Ita, te adloquor.”_

A sacrilege is committed in front of me, and I cannot turn my head away. My curiosity is stronger than the pain.

_“Prospice tibi - tu quoque in tres partes dividaris.”_

O’Maoilrian screams and screams and screams. I was not aware that any male being can have such a high voice. Flashes of lightning crackle through his body. I can see the outlines of his bones underneath his skin and flesh. The skulls of Elves are so frighteningly similar to those of my people, especially around the eye sockets.

_“In tempore praeterito plus quam perfecto de te mox dicent.”_

Solitaire’s laughter builds up to a dreadful crescendo.

The light gets so bright that I have to shut my eyes and hide my face.

Then I hear the yell of agony from another male voice: Ahearne.

When my eyes are able to perform their usual duties again, O’Maoilrian is in a bad state. He is having violent seizures. His right hand is burned beyond recognition. The fingers have melted together.

Ahearne hovers above his companion. Tears are running down his haggard, sun-burned face. _“Temnén! Ar son Bandé! Is mise is ciontach leis!”_

Out of a sudden he turns around to a shadow that is standing behind him. I only can make out the silhouette of a very large, muscular humanoid. Ahearne shouts an order that contains my step-brother’s name. _“Fabhcún! Viscount Ankoù! Déndeifir!”_

The shadow vanishes into the desert dawn outside. Whatever it has been, it strangely smelled of bird feathers and Elfin blood.

“What have you been up to, lass?” Ahearne asks with trembling lips after some considerable time has passed. “Have you any clue how dangerous the dark magic of Cunabula is? You could have killed yourself. Look what that thing did to my soul brother.”

My eyes narrow. “You and your companions entered my cave without any allowance. A _dubh sith_ should know better than to touch a holocron, shouldn’t he?”

He blinks at me, astonished that I know the Elfin word for a _’dark elf’_. “True, true, but...”

“Why are you here? Who sent you?” I interrupt him harshly. My hands twitch. I am not in a mood for silly guessing games. My mouth still remembers the taste of the goat’s blood. “Are you spying on me for my step-brother?”

“What?” Ahearne is totally taken aback. “I never would dare to get entangled into the affairs of His Lordship, especially not when they concern his honoured family.”

I wonder what honour has to do with the House Ankoù. They are a bunch of murderous villains, conspiring against the Draconian Crown. “Why are you here then?”

He blushes. “This cave looked empty even though Ciall had a strange feeling about it. So he wanted to check out the situation. For some daft reason he tried to catch the holocron.”

“You cretins just looked for shelter in the middle of nowhere, right.”

His brown iris turns into an unhealthy yellow. So he has indeed wolf blood in him, as Solitaire has claimed. The Elves have done dirty genetics experiments in order to win the star wars so many centuries ago.

“Believe what you want!” Ahearne snaps, all of his normal gentleness exhausted. “My anam ċara is dying on me. This is more than I can bear. I already lost the woman that I loved more than life itself: Adamah.”

This dirty Elf hound is a liar. Ruadhan killed Adamah in cold blood during an audience. In fond memory Arcānā called her eldest daughter after her older sister. The holocron has told me all about it.

I reach down to the holocron that is still laying on the floor. It seems deactivated, but at the sheer touch of my fingertips it lights up again.

“Cherida, somebody found me. A servant of the darkness. Get out of there, now!”

“I have everything under control. You fried that thing alive. Well done.”

Ahearne shoots a reproachful glance at me which I answer with a big grin.

“Can we speak openly?” Solitaire’s figure asks.

“Later. Better if you deactivate yourself now,” I suggest. “I fear Luçien is on his way to save the life of his ally.”

My step-mother gives me a small and formal bow and the holocron goes off again. I put it in my hunting bag, that hangs from the ceiling. Certainly Luçien not look through the meat of the old goat that I killed last night.

“So this devilish woman found a way to reach out to you from her grave and poison your mind, lass,” Ahearne says gravely.

“How dare you talk about my step-mother! She fell victim to the cruel traditions the city people have. The desert tribes welcome every drop of new blood in a clan. In the cities unwanted children get slaughtered. This is civilisation for you!”

“Then have a look at my anam ċara, lass. He is also an innocent victim of tradition.”

As Ahearne tears the hood from the other elf’s head I have to gaze at an unhealthy white skull. Dreadful scars are all over it. No single hair grows on the uneven surface.

“His own father took his scalp, after he flocked Ciall for hours. Then he had him castrated by the horse master of his stables and thrown from the top of the highest tower of the castle.”

I stay unimpressed and answer, “I bet the old O’Maoilrian had some very good reasons for it.”

The bitterness in Ruadhan Ahearne rises with every word he is able to speak through his trembling lips. “The problem of my race is: they think too much in terms of black and white. I expected better of you, lass. The bohémien of the dune sea always seemed very reasonable to me. Your own mother gave us food and drink when we were close to dying. Of course Marquise Chaleur Riwalan was not happy saving our lives, but she knew about hospitality and honour. She did not harm us while we were in her desert camp, although she made it clear that she wished to never see us again after we left”

I sink to the floor. “You claim to have known my mother?”

He nods his eyes resting in the past. “Her Ladyship was quite a beauty. Dangerous as the desert storms that roam the erg. Nobody could deal with a leather whip as well as she did. You have her eyes, lass, and her temper as I found out during our very first meeting in the city.”

********************************************************************

After the mentioning of my birth mother Ahearne and I remain silent for a very long time. The only thing that I can hear is the irregular breath of the dying O’Maoilrian.

I am strangely at peace. My mother lives on in the memory of another soul. Even though the being is an Elf.

Now a tiny piece of me even wishes for O’Maoilrian to stay alive. The more people remembering my mother, the better. And Elves have unnatural long lives after all.

“Do you hate me so much because of Adamah’s death?” Ruadhan Ahearne asks suddenly.

Taken aback, I nod.

“I thought so. Most supporters of House Tjiehennet hate me for that.” More tears shimmer in his eyes, ran softly over his cheeks. “But fact is that threw herself into her husband’s blade in order to save my life. This may not be the official version that is told by Draconian civilians, but it is the truth. Ask Senator Aletheia. He will confirm that Adamah and I were lovers.”

My eyes widen in indignation.

“Things can get very hot at the Beltane fires, you know.” He dares to wink at me. “I did not even know who she was nor did she know who made her pregnant. We were both so drunk and the night was full of love.”

Alcohol is always a bad idea. As a desert creature I know best.

“When our ways got entangled for a second time Adamah had a horse accident. Things got a little mixed up and the royal family thought I had kidnapped her. They sent out messengers with death warrants. I wanted to end this nonsense. When I brought her back to the castle, with Avel and some of the gang in tow, we were all arrested. During an audience in the throne room things got very, very dirty. Especially when Adamah proclaimed her love for me in public. Her mother did not like that. And Arcānā, oh don’t ask! She really, really lost a grip on herself. A dangerous creature she is, full of darkness and destruction.”

He sniffs loudly, hiding his face behind his large, hairy hands.

“And before I knew what happened Adamah was dead, beheaded. And our child, our little daughter...”

His story drowns in a flood of hot tears.

I give the bag in which I have hidden the holocron a thoughtful look. It seems that the truth about an event or even a person depend on one’s point of view. A general truth does not seem to exist. One's own heart has to be the compass.

This man in front of me really suffers from his loss. He is not the murderer that Solitaire has described.

Perhaps it was better when I try to stick to my own judgement from now on and ask the holocron not too many questions any more.

********************************************************************

The hours blend into one another. Ahearne has taken off of his dirty tunic in order to cover the broken body of his companion. So I have a pretty good view of his bare skin. What fascinates me most of all are all the blond hairs that grow on his chest, on his muscular arms and even on his back. He has many scars as if he has been attacked by a predator ages ago. They are all over his torso, angling from his left shoulder down to his right hip. One of his eyebrows and the lid underneath it are split in half. His nose is not sitting very straight in an Elfin face that has high, almost sophisticated cheek bones.

Here on Sapuhru scars are regarded as marks of honour. Females are mad about them and want scared males to be the fathers of their offspring. Instead of asking Ahearne how he earned his, I say, “So you want to return to Draconis by any means? Cunabula has put a death mark on your head.”

“Ah, but we are not going to the Holy Isle. I miss Ceilonwyn a great, great deal, lass. That forest is the place that I call home.” Ahearne gives me a happy grin. “Senator Aletheia wants to achieve that the boys and I get pardoned by his wife.”

“Why should he do that?” I growl.

“Because he is a man of peace and honour as much as your step-brother.”

_“Bien sure!”_ I get up and throw one of my woollen blankets into his direction. “Of course. Vicomte Ankoù is such an angel.”

“I heard my name being mentioned?”

********************************************************************

Vicomte Ankoù is not on his own. Twelve creatures of bizarre beauty are with him, filling my cave with scary quickness. They have blue skin and red eyes without any white in them. Their extremely long hair frames them like a black coat.

“How dare you! This is my serail!” I yell.

He takes off his black leather gloves and kneels in front of O’Maoilrian. “How long has Ciall been in that state, Ruadhan? And why?”

“Since dawn. He touched an artefact of the Holy Isle. It was one of their cursed holocrons. A pyramid. Some present of the late Lady Solitaire.”

While he talks, the Rouge vaguely waves around with his hands. Only now do I realize that the surface of his palms is burned beyond recognition. The skin has burned down to the bare bones.

“Where is the artefact?” Vicomte Ankoù’s voice hits me like a whip.

“Master, don’t!” a strange female voice begs. It has the quality of a metal harp string. “Control your anger! It leads to the Dark Side.”

“Dark side, light side, I do not care, Telenn! These are my powers and I use them as I please.”

“Then you abuse the gift the Midi-chlorians granted you from birth on. Honour your father’s heritage!”

_“Diagarezit. Eskuzit ac’hanon,”_ Vicomte Ankoù whispers.

_“Netra. Mann ebet,”_ is the answer. “But now healing needs to be done. Let not frustration and other dark feelings reign you, master.”

********************************************************************

The blue creatures are like pieces of broken glass that stick in my brain. I keep my eyes shut most of the time, even though it is not that helpful. For I still feel them, every single one of them.

My eyes search for Vicomte Ankoù. In deep concentration he still leans over O’Maoilrian. To my utter annoyance he has taken off his war mask and kaftan. He is wearing nothing more than his breeches and his riding boots. I cannot believe that he is exposing his body in this manner to strangers. They are no kin to him and many females are present.

“I can’t!” I hear him whisper almost heartbroken. “It is too heavy a task.”

The one Vicomte Ankoù has addressed as Telenn earlier on, is standing behind him. Her spider like fingers are resting on his bare shoulders. Her mouth is not moving either. But I hear each of her words as clear as daylight.

“But you already managed to separate his fingers from one another. Do not give up here, master! Move on!”

“So much hatred, so much scorn...” Vicomte Ankoù whimpers on. “I never knew it was possible.”

“And this is why Minou insists you learn to control your feelings, master. Compassion for others is the way. The only way there is for you.”

This intense communication gives me a headache, but I cannot shut it out. I am forced to hear this lecture about the Force.

“I’ll try again.” Vicomte Ankoù sounds very exhausted.

“There is no trying.” Telenn persists. “Do it, master. This Elf here is also a being that exists in the Force, even though he is not aware of it at all. See, the Midi-chlorians carry the ancient stardust in them as well. All life in the universe has sprung from the same source. We are all brothers and sisters in the Force. Once there was harmony. A harmony we all long for again. You can heal this man here.”

I smirk. Perhaps Vicomte Ankoù is not so powerful after all.

As if to defy me, he raises his arms high above his head. A beautiful light springs out of his fingertips. It is not azure this time, but white and pure as the ice caps of the Polar region. I never have seen such beauty before. It makes me cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: The slightly altered Native American Poem and Prayer “The Hunters”  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	7. Chapter 7

When the healing is over, Vicomte Ankoù lies on the floor, unconscious and a peaceful smile dancing on his lips. The Force has a prize. Eventually I believe that every form of magic has.

The blue creature looming over my step-brother gazes at me in a way that sucks me in. Her eyes are so ancient, so wise in a way that it hurt me.

**“Giving and taking, that is the true secret of the universe. Without the commerce between all the beings out there in the universe would be no life possible. So the light needs the dark. They are like the two sides of a coin. You, young Lidérc, are his darkness. Be blessed and cursed for that.”**

This creature has no right speaking to me that way.

**“You chose to lock this one out of your heart. To shun him for what he is. For what happened with your mother’s tribe so long ago.” the creature states strictly. Her voice is echoed in all the corners of my very soul. “For somebody so young you already have a very strong opinion. Ask yourself if you are not too hard on him. If you are not the one who has a very skewed view on matters.”**

My lips tremble, but I cannot give her any sharp answer.

**“The future is always in motion, hard to tell. I can only predict one clear outcome: one of you will die in the deadly conflict that is to come. You are a trouble maker, a desert storm that is very destructive. Your thoughts and beliefs will leave a strong imprint behind in others.”**

With this she turns around and attends the others. They have formed a circle around Vicomte Ankoù’s body. Green light rises amongst their midst, raining down on him like a star shower.

********************************************************************

I am still sulking when we are on our way to the city. None of the _Asrai_ , the legendary water monsters, have tried to take my holocron away from me in so far. Not even Vicomte Ankoù who looks refreshed and well. He is chatting with Ruadhan as they ride along one another on their eopies.

At the gateway to Montségur the _Asrai_ depart from us. Bare feet they return to the dune sea. I am happy when they are out of sight. If the She-Moon and her virgin daughter are merciful, I never have to see their lot again.

When we enter the labyrinth of streets that lead to the ducal homestead, the lustful moaning of a male Lidérc swings in the night air. I recognize the _couleur_ and the melody at once.

Vicomte Ankoù jumps down from Argent at once, his midnight blue robes swirling around him in an impressive way. I follow him, leaving a frustrated Crépuscule behind.

“You, here. What an unexpected surprise, honoured cousin!” Vicomte Ankoù puts his arms in front of his chest. “If I had known that your income is too low for the services of Ostal Blanc then I would have asked _papa_ for an increase on your behalf.”

I roll my eyes.

His next words sound less kind. They come out like cold wind. “If you do not draw back your spiked belongings at once, you can gather their splinters in the dune sea.”

Zouave moves very slowly and fearfully.

“May I help?” suggests Vicomte Ankoù with cool efficiency. “I have very skilled hands you know.”

Zouave shakes his head weakly and steps aside an instant later.

A female Elf slides down the wall, closing her legs. One of them is a wooden stump. Distressed she glares at as. Only now I am able to see her very young face. She is nothing more than a child, wearing a rose coloured dress that leaves her thin shoulders bare. Her body is as petite as the one of a fennek. Even her golden red curls have similarity with that of those shy desert foxes. Her slanted eyes are indigo blue, speaking of terror, homesickness and fear.

I hate the tramp at once, because Vicomte Ankoù shows vast interest in her. Fascination and sympathy shine in his eyes. “You were on the way home, honoured cousin, I suspect?” he says loud and clear, stretching each syllable.

_“Oui,”_ comes the meek answer from Zouave, who lowered his kaftan. 

“Then tell _papa_ that we are on the way to Ostal Blanc.”

I hope that the term ’we’ does not include the Elves and me. A visit at the Court of Healing is for unmarried males only. All the female healers, called _bonas-femnas_ , stand in the service of the moon goddesses and her virgin daughter.

Vicomte Ankoù makes an inviting gesture towards the child woman. “Cover yourself and come with me!”

This is a ridiculous request. The tramp has nothing to cover herself with apart from her long hair that is flowing along her backside.

“I would feel honoured if you would join me instead of the city guard,” Vicomte Ankoù continues.

Even I get a fright from the seven masked shadows that show up behind us, their weapons drawn. Zouave squeezes past them and runs off as fast as his feet can take him. He leaves a cloud of fear behind.

“Everything is fine, commander!” Vicomte Ankoù announces without turning around. “The young lady here fell victim to criminals that trample our holy laws with their dirty boots. Leave them to me.”

Respectfully, the guards draw back.

The tramp shakes as badly as her body when she pipes up. “I am not allowed to go away with strangers. Who are you?”

Vicomte Ankoù bows in front of her as if she is a lady of a family of means. “Viscount Ankoù, at your service. And this is my honoured step-sister Marquise Isabeau Riwalan.”

Did he just introduce me against my will? I should knock him out of his kaftan for it. By now I have reached a point where I am not afraid of his strange Force powers any longer.

Enormously big, wide Elfin eyes fly from me and then back to Vicomte Ankoù. “I am Sionnach O’Conghaile.” Quickly, she ads, “A farmer’s daughter.”

This is a story that I do not buy a single bit. Farmers never leave their land and certainly not their home planet. There is more about the tramp than she wants us to know at present. I pity her a bit. Not because of her wooden leg though. Vicomte Ankoù likes to crack secrets as much as people.

“Well met, milady,” he muses.

Her fingers are enclosed by his elegant hand. Against the black leather her skin looks as white as spilled bantha milk.

“And now you should follow me if you want to bear your child alive.”

If he had not mentioned it, I would not have noticed her delicate state at all. Her knee caps are so terribly thin, as is the rest of her. I have thought her swollen belly to be a sign of malnutrition.

“When was the last time you ate something decent, milady?” Vicomte Ankoù asks, leading the tramp as gently as possible out of the gutter.

A blanket, that has been attached to Argent’s saddle flies towards them, wrapping itself around the fragile Elfin body. He is clearly showing off to her. He repeats his question, while she is still staring at the blanket that now covers her.

“Two nights ago,” she finally says. Like her _Ronronner_ earlier on, her Basic contains a strong accent. From her mouth the words seem like a gentle stream of water, following a very distinguished melody. “Business was not running very successfully. I was not able to pay my fees to... my guardian.”

Vicomte Ankoù leaves her last sentence uncommented and squeezes her hand somewhat more. The leather of his gloves crack slightly.

I cannot believe we are picking up a dirty street cat like her. With Ahearne, O’Maoilrian and Avel we already have low lives among us. Is he a collector of some sort?

Smirking, I stare at the tramp and Vicomte Ankoù. They amuse me more than they should repulse me. This is the stuff that fairy tales are made out of. A dark, yet handsome desert prince rescues a mere farmer’s daughter from another realm. She becomes his bride and they have many children ever after.

A vision opens up to me, unbidden and colourful.

_**Éibhear likes to be the centre of attention. Women want to give him a hug, mess around with his carrot coloured hair or have him sit on their laps. I am concerned that this will have a bad influence on his character, but Luçien roars out with laughter when I try to speak with him about that.** _

_**“There is nothing wrong with being admired, Sionnach. Our son is a gorgeous lad.”** _

Annoyed, I let go of the spectre of the future. This tramp will set something lose in Vicomte Ankoù that was not there before.

********************************************************************

Ahearne looks delighted when we come to face the rest of our travel company again. At least O’Maoilrian does not seem to approve of the tramp at all. His cold, considerate eyes darken under his wide hood.

“That guardian of yours, milady, what is his name?” Vicomte Ankoù asks casually while helping the tramp to mount Argent.

“I am not allowed to...”

“Milady”, he insists without getting loud or distressed at all, “I will find this man and the rest of his organization anyway. Your help would be very much appreciated though.”

“Jonc,” she answers after a while.

I start sniggering and get a hard bump from Argent against my shin. Nobody else seems to have noticed. They focus on the two love birds only.

“This is not a local name. An inhabitant of Fort du Montagnes I presume?”

She nods.

“Well, he is a long way from home then. He will find out soon that I do not tolerate crime in this city at all.”

Vicomte Ankoù, the dark angel of law, has spoken. I am missing trumpets and people dancing on the streets, celebrating him. Maybe his Midi-chlorians make him so much better than the rest of us.

The tramp smiles shyly. Her ear peaks are blue with cold, but her pitiful sight does not move me any more. Soon she will be fat with the army of children that she will bear for the glory of House Ankoù. And I will remain childless forever.

********************************************************************

We reach Ostal Blanc without any further addition to our company. The streets are empty as though the citizens of Montségur had felt it not wise to end up in front of Vicomte Ankoù’s nose.

“You will join us inside, Isabeau,” he addresses me sharply.

This is no plea, it is an order. I feel like rejecting it, but then an elderly Lidérc, clad in the finest garments, comes out of the building. She is a half-blood like myself. Her dark-brown hair is full of silver lines. As far as I can tell, she is not able to walk without her silver cane. Age weighs heavily on her. Instead of a bindu her high front shows the pale tattoo of a double crescent moon.

“Madame Yeotenn,” I mumble in awe. She is the most famous Force healer in the realm.

“Minou!” Vicomte Ankoù jumps towards her, greeting her like one of his step-mothers. “What a pleasure to see you. It has been a while.”

“Indeed.” The crone bids him rise to his feet again, her eyes tenderly fixed on his masked face. “The more my heart is enlightened to bid you welcome in this humble homestead. You seem stressed.”

“And you want to change that with olive soap and water?”

“It would be a challenge indeed, my dear boy.” She claps her hands together. “I accept it.”

With Vicomte Ankoù and Madame Yeotenn gone in an instant, Ahearne offers the tramp his help to dismount Argent.

“You are all so kind to me,” she answers. “I do not think I deserve so much kindness.”

“I wonder why that might be,” O’Maoilrian hisses as he appears next to her right elbow.

_“Dubh sith!”_ the tramp is able to get out, her face now almost as white as his.

Boldly, O’Maoilrian reaches out to her bosom, taking a small amulet out. “And you, lassie, have gone astray, too. I may be an outcast, but you are one of Dealg’s followers. Did they have your leg for it? The Holy Inquisition?”

_“Temnén! Ar son Bandé!”_ Ahearne is dark with anger. What ever he just has shouted, it makes his soul brother step away from the tramp. “Give it a rest, will you.”

“As you wish!” comes the sardonic answer.

“It is all right!” The tramp is able to look up again. “I ended here because of Her Holiness and the interference of Cunabula.”

This skinny, young thing has drawn a lot of attention to her. And I do wonder why. Only I had a glimpse on her bedding Vicomte Ankoù in the future, making the sky walker line continue.

“Milady?” Ahearne seeks my attention and I grant it to him for the moment. “May we go inside now? The young lady is ill and my soul brother could use some rest. I believe you must feel rather tired after all the recent events, too.”

I do not agree lightly to it, but the Rouge is right. My body and soul are tired beyond any means. Too many thoughts and questions occupy me, while the future weighs heavy on my shoulders. “Let’s go then”, I growl.

********************************************************************

Each stone chamber is furnished in a very natural style and hold in soft colours. We reach a chamber that has been painted in a light yellow. The curtains in it are as light blue as the tramps’ eyes, but the brocade pillows are of the same colour as my step-brother’s tunic. A foreshadowing.

“Abduct the girl!” Those are the first words that Flor says to me once we are out on the street again.

Smiling ruefully, I state, “That would make things worse.”

“Bridal kidnapping is not unheard of in our culture.”

My eyes widen. “I will not do such a thing to Sionnach.”

“Just because life was harsh on her?” She lifts a questioning eyebrow.

“Sionnach is a very sweet and devoted girl. I will not compromise her in any way.”

“Because you are not a real man. And you never will be,” Flor snarls. “Look at you: barely sixteen and no sexual record that is mentionable.”

I snort when I let go of the vision, a tone that startles all three Elves. But before I can get down in front of the wooden coffee table, a barely dressed moon priestess appears.

“I would feel honoured if you could follow me into the steam bath,” the young woman says. “His Lordship and the patron are already waiting inside.”

Another vision of the future hassles me.

_**His gaze wanders through the room, meeting mine. “It is useless to argue any result of witchcraft with me.”** _

_**It is simply absurd that Luçien is making a statement like this. “You can produce energy shields and heal persons by touching them. You can throw lightening bolts and kill from a safe distance. You have strong reflexes and read minds.”** _

_**“The future is forbidden terrain for a Force user.”** _

_**I feel a twinge of fear in my soul. “Says who, Luçien?”** _

_**“The holy laws of my people.”** _

_**“What else do those laws say?”** _

_**“He who chops wood is the actual cause of fire.”** _

_**Remembering the planet surface of Sapuhru I wonder where a Lidérc can find enough wood to erect a camp fire. “Any more words of wisdom for me?”** _

_**“All witchcraft comes from carnal lust, which is in women insatiable.”** _

_**“Could it be that your people hate and mistrust one another very much?”** _

_**“Sionnach”, Luçien sweeps to his feet and towers over me in his stunning height, “They used the phantasm of a cat, an animal which is an appropriate symbol of the perfidious, for cats are always setting snares for each other.”** _

_**Now he has lost me completely. “They?” I ask.** _

_**“The Ophidiae. It was no accident that they used feline jungle creatures to get to the Elves.” His hands settle down on my shoulder blades. “Those female scientists were malicious women. It is true what is written in the holy laws: ´And I have found a woman more bitter than death, who is the hunter´s snare, and her heart is a net, and her hands are bands.´”** _

_**“Strange that you are from a culture where the females hunt for the homestead and the males stay behind guarding the camp fire. Maybe you should trust the hands that feed you.”** _

_**I wish that he would stop now, but he goes on. His grip intensifies.** _

_**“I owe respect to all the females in the ducal household. Yet they need to be watched and the law needs to be carried out when appropriate. Including men who disregard all that is holy.”** _

_**There is indeed a strong need. On his side. The more he dares me to look into his heart, the less I like it. “Is there never any mercy? I mean, what if somebody is truly sorry or cannot help being different?”** _

_**“However much they are penitent and return to the Faith, they must not be punished like other Heretics with lifelong imprisonment, but must suffer the extreme penalty.”** _

Now I have the proof that my step-brother is a religious fanatic. I should warn the tramp about it. She might get hurt. But then again: I am not supposed to see the future.

From the holocron I have learned that the theory of the Unifying Force is a dangerous one. It views the Force as a deity that neither had sides nor chose them, treating all beings equally. This is another reason why Luçien is so furious with Draconis all the time.

********************************************************************

A bunch of moon priestesses, _bonas-femnas_ , gathers around us in silent dignity. Each of them wears discrete make-up and nice scents. It is like standing in the garden of the ducal serail with all the lovely flowers in them. The women start undressing us and wrap us in cotton towels. Their fingers dance carefully around, barely touching us. It feels like a soft breeze of wind going through palm leaves. One of the women disappears through a side-door with our clothing.

Curious, I allow another future vision to make itself known to me.

**_Dish after dish is brought in by serene moon priestesses. Fruit salad. Bantha cheese. Womp-rat meat with tomatoes and potatoes. I force myself to eat some of it, but give up after a few spoonfuls._ **

**_“Should the groom not be present for his own opulent wedding banquet?” I inquire carefully._ **

**_Minou Yeotenn’s expression turns sombre. “You have not consumed it yet?”_ **

**_It occurs to me that she is not speaking about the food in front of me. “There has been no need to,” I mumble, my eyes downcast on my lap._ **

With a slight headache, I return into the present. It is annoying to see the possible future through the eyes of others. I am sure that I was in Sionnach O’Conghaile’s head once more. But I cannot be certain.

The future is like sand, containing grains of possibility. A single sand corn surely has no will of its own, but it certainly has its own journey.

Instead of focusing on what Vicomte Ankoù will do to his new lover given the time, I better take care of my own future.

We are led into the tiled bath chamber itself. In there our skins are cleaned with great care. But the ancient ritual does not stop there. In the steam bath next door we are rubbed with peeling gloves from our shoulders down to the feet. Then cascades of lukewarm water, taken out of a marble pool with brazen bowls, are emptied over our bodies.

Vicomte Ankoù is already resting on a heated marble bench, not wearing the big towel any longer, but a smaller one around his hips. Madame Yeotenn stands close to him. She has stirred a small bag with soap pieces and olives in a bowl causing a very thick foam to form. This delicious smelling foam is spread over his arms, his legs and his back.

Each of us is granted an equally intense massage. No words are spoken. An atmosphere of peace and serenity hangs in the misty air of the steam bath.

********************************************************************

When we are clean again, dried with additional towels and clad in silken morning robes, we are rushed into a resting room. Everybody gets comfortable on a chaiselonge, while Madame Yeotenn appears with a tray.

“An Elfin tea ceremony?” the tramp asks astonished.

“Please stay this way, child. It is not required that you kneel in your state.”

As I watch Vicomte Ankoù, Ahearne and Maoilrian getting on their knees, I decide to get seated on my lower tights, too.

My mother had known the Way of the Tea as well. I am very surprised that the Elfin culture practises this ceremony. Once our people have been enemies and are supposed to be at war still.

The patron moves her hands like a young woman that only barely has the Feast of Blood behind her. She leads us through the entire ceremony with dignity and peace, serving us perfect green tea. It is the best that I had in a life time. It tastes in a sublime way of jasmine petals.

We drink in silence.

Then our morning robes get moved from our shoulders and we are massaged with precious almond oil that contained rose essences.

********************************************************************

I awake in fresh garments and in a different room. Nobody is attending me, so I decide to walk around in Ostal Blanc. The air is heavy with exotic scents.

After a while I am drawn to the sound of a familiar voice, full of agony. “I cannot bear her moods any longer, Minou. Seven moon weeks without any excuse from her. She even thinks of me as Vicomte Ankoù. I seem to have lost any right to be her beloved step-brother Luc anymore.”

“She is a _bohémienne_ , a daughter of the crossroads. She will go where ever the winds tell her to. It is in her very blood.”

I dare to stare through the key hole.

Vicomte Ankoù is kneeling in front of Madame Yeotenn, his head resting in her lap. She is stroking him like a young kitten. They look like mother and child. I wonder if Flor would like that picture very much.

“Do you have no other advice for me, Minou?”

“If you would have listened to Alezan years ago than you would not be in trouble right now. But you had to be stubborn about saving Isabeau.”

I keep my breath as low as possible, dare not to move an inch.

“Without me she would be nothing more than a pale skeleton swimming the dune sea.”

“Perhaps that was the fate that was meant for her in the first place.”

“Fate, fate!” shouts Luçien.

“This is the way of our people. It does not matter whether we moved into stone cities or stayed nomads in desert tents. We all have to serve the scripts. The words of the She-Moon and her virgin daughter are holy. Only their wisdom saved us from genocide. Do not forget to what purpose the Ophidiae bred us originally! Our way is the Way of Blood.”

I draw back from the door, wandering further through a homestead that seems to be asleep.

Then I hear girlish giggling not very far away. I choose to get closer to its source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “The Malleus Maleficarum — The Hammer of Witches” (1486), a book by the German church men and inquisitors Heinrich Kramer and Jacobus Sprenger as translated by Rev. Montague Summers   
> The Holy Bible, New Testament, Ecclesiastes 7:26   
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	8. Chapter 8

“But I do not believe in magic, Néné.” Ahearne sounds physically exhausted, but nonetheless satisfied.

“What about the Force?”

Having no interest in further religious discussions I move on. There are more doors and people to spy on. This place is no labyrinth like the ducal homestead. And there are no guards around. That makes things way easier.

“You complained about having a headache back in the cave, Isabeau.”

Vicomte Ankoù has come out of nowhere. I bump straight against his bare chest. “I have this heartache since you turned away from me.” His voice is grave with sorrow. “I can only remove the cause, but not the symptom. After tonight you will not be save on this planet ever again. _Papa_ knows everything that has occurred.”

“Because you told him,” I accuse him.

“There was no need to. Bad news travel faster as a desert storm.”

“First of all, he is not your father. The sky walker is and don’t you dare to deny that. Your mother is a whore!”

“You have no idea about those things!” Vicomte Ankoù thunders with a wildness that makes me jump away from him. His anger turns him into a dangerous, yet beautiful being. An aura of white and azure blue energy is dancing at the edge of his naked skin.

“Alezan was a better father to me than this eternal Force bender. A being so driven by his urge to serve other’s that he forgot about me and the other children that he has nursed.”

His shouting has alarmed the entire place. Doors open everywhere and heads pop out. The rushing of feet comes from every direction.

And then I smell her.

Flor is a cloud of blood and perfume. How she has been possibly hunting like that I cannot understand. Even womp-rats can smell her in a radius of twelve feet. She approaches us in her tight hunting gear.

“There she is, the sky walker bitch in person,” I snare.

Behind my step-mother, a grim shadow dressed in the colours of his house, Alezan looms. His long, bushy tail is sweeping the floor.

“Let us kill this snake lover here and now!” my step-father says. “The magic of Cunabula is forbidden in my realm.”

“There is nothing magical about the holocron,” I correct him. “It is just a teaching device.”

Vicomte Ankoù has to hold Alezan's teeth away from my throat with all his might. “Isabeau is just an unreasonable child that found a dangerous toy, papa.”

“This time you cannot protect her any longer, my son. I listened to you before and it was wrong. Pour la mort,” he hisses. Destined to die.

A friendly cough sounds through the air. “I beg your pardon, old friend, but may I interfere here?”

********************************************************************

Senator Aletheia has appeared in a door frame, only clad in a towel. His skin is shimmering with massage oil. “I fear that my wife’s Force legacy once more brought your household shame and dishonour.”

“Indeed,” answers Alezan, now sounding more civilized and calm. He bows to the human man, who returns the honour immediately.

“I know a solution to this deadly conflict that sprung up here among you. Give your step-daughter into my care.”

I am high in the air in no time, coming down hard in front of him. “Pardon me?”

The human’s pupils are wide with shock. Only when Vicomte Ankoù gets hold of my shoulder blades, he seems more at ease again. “What I was going to suggest, dear Marquise, is: come with me to Draconis. If the culture of my wife interests you so much, then be a permanent guest in our home.”

Vicomte Ankoù draws in a deep breath. “You really would do that for my beloved sister?”

“I say, we kill her at this very spot!” Alezan insists. His cat ears, coming out of his turban, are very tense and his tail is standing high in the air.

Senator Aletheia gives a genuine smile. “My dear friend, my own children play with holocrons like this on a daily bases. I assure you there is nothing evil in them.”

“You should reconsider their education then.” My step-father sounds very concerned. “Bring them to your mother and brother on Amnion.”

“My wife and her subjects may have very bewildering ways at times, but believe me, our children are safe from harm when holocrons are concerned.”

Vicomte Ankoù lets go of me, clasping the hands of the human man in deep gratitude. “You really would do that for Isabeau?”

“I see no reason why not.”

A lot of things escape my attention here.

“Under one condition!”, my step-father says, “I never want to see her face again. Is that clear? Let it be known that there is a Death Mark on her head otherwise.”

“Oui, papa,” Vicomte Ankoù mumbles, sinking to his knees. “I swear by all that is holy to me, you will never suffer her company again.”

“What is going on?” I yell, but nobody answers me. All eyes are fixed on the creature that used to be my sweet Luc. He is sobbing in public and makes Alezan’s leather gloves wet.

********************************************************************

How I end up in the boudoir of Madame Yeotenn, I do not recall. The door is slammed behind me and Vicomte Ankoù breathes heavily. His expression is weary. Neither of us speaks for long moments.

Then he makes a sound in the back of his throat, half whimper and half plea. “Isabeau...”

I bite my tongue and spit out blood. This act is normally considered as an invitation for a vendetta. He chooses to ignore that.

“You should have never used the holocron. ” His eyes are filled with unbelievable sorrow. “It is pure evil.”

“And you, of all people, are a vessel of goodness? Right!”

He starts walking around the room, restlessly and wringing his hands. So many secrets, so many weird alliances. I am tired of it.

“You order other people what to do, how to behave, what to think and where to live. A true empire of dust and dirt. You absorb other tribes or destroy them in order to make your own realm stronger.”

He turns away from me. “We must be united as one nation against Cunabula and the humans of Amnion. They are both a threat against...”

“No more.” I throw myself down on the futon bed. “You were in my head far too often. Stop talking!”

Vicomte Ankoù is gone when I look up from my pillows. Automatically, I make it to the door, only to find it locked. I hammer against it until my fists turn bloody, but nobody answers me.

Finally, I lie down on the floor. There I bunch myself up like a new born eopie at its mother’s side.

The sky is nearly dark when I awake to more pain shaking my limbs. I cough droplets of blood. My inner damages are as great as the outer ones. I have absorbed too much of the dark side energies. They twine themselves around my veins like the tentacles of poison ivy, leaking into my blood stream.

Through my equally traumatized Midi-chlorians, I check each organ and cell in my body. The conclusion is grim: the abrupt drop in blood minerals has provoked muscular micro-seizures throughout my body. If I remain untreated for long, muscle damage and my blurred vision will become permanent.

My head hurts from the sheer force of all the mental input that just rushed through it.

“A girl,” I mutter.

After a while I feel uncomfortable. Somebody is watching me.

I find a Lidérc woman looking down on me. She is but a shimmering shade of blue. Her features are hauntingly familiar. **“The belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead.”**

With a yelp I shut my eyes. “Go away!” I tell my dead mother. To see ghosts is never a good sign.

I feel her lingering on.

“Go away!” I repeat stubbornly and start banging my brow against the tiles. My vain hope is that this helps me to banish her.

Blood starts running down my face.

“Stop hurting yourself, Isabeau!” Vicomte Ankoù says from right behind me. He sounds more concerned than angry, clutches on to an overloaded tea tray. “For your own safety I have put you under house arrest. We will remain here until Senator Aletheia is ready to take off.”

I jump up, pushing the tray into his unmasked face. And I hope with all my might the brewery contains mandrake root. “I am not going, can you hear me?” I shout. “I am not going!”

He smiles very sad, whipping the hot tea from his cheeks and nose. “You have no choice here, Isabeau. The usage of a holocron is forbidden by law. The magic of Cunabula is a demonic thing.”

“And your Force powers are normal?” I yell, remembering his future talk with Sionnach O’Conghaile, the tramp. Enraged, I kick the brazen tea pot through the stone chamber.

“You have that power, too. In time, you’ll learn to use it as I have.”

“They should cast you out, freak! Not me! To even suggest to me that I...” My head feels on fire. I hope he stays out of my mind. Hope, that he does not recognize me for the clairvoyant that I am. “How dare you!”

Vicomte Ankoù makes the effort to reach out for my cheeks, but I do not let him touch me. That might trigger more unpleasant shadows of the future to come forth. “You are filled with anger and resentment,” he remarks.

I tell him straight away why. “My childhood memories were blown into oblivion. You tempered with them.”

“How unfortunate!” he sighs.

“Unfortunate that I know the truth?” I thunder.

“Can’t you see that I did all to keep you away from harm? But you manage to get yourself into trouble over and over again.”

“And whose fault is this now?”

“That golem played you like a sitar. She split us apart and won you over for her dark princess.”

A very discreet knock sounds from the other side of the door.

“Vicomte Ankoù, my friend, are you ready?”

He gives me a long, desperate look. Then his left hand moves, the fingers stretched out. An invisible force grounds me, suppresses my motor skills. There is no escape. Next, I am rendered unconscious.

********************************************************************

When I can move again I am trapped in a technical environment that is not known to me. Weird smells, colours and sounds surround me. As I look around in blind panic, I must ascertain that my step-brother has tricked me. Against my will I am on-board a space ship.

The desert is alive and this metal box is not. Like Vicomte Ankoù’s soul it is just an empty shell.

“I hope that I packed the right things for you,” I hear him say, actually so gentle that I cannot close my ears to his words. “The Desert of Colours almost has the same climate as Sapuhru, but there is also an annual time of rain fall. They call it munson.”

Will he never shut up?

“Agathos has arranged that you can use the former summer palace of his mother-in-law. That might keep you away from Arcānā for a while. She seldom goes there. Too many bad memories she cannot cope with.”

I put my hands over my ears. It does not help overly much. A strange vibration goes through my unwanted environment. I drill my claws deep into the leather of the seats.

“We have taken off,” Vicomte Ankoù informs me. „You better get your security belt on! Here I’ll help you.“

I shake so much with fear, that he has no trouble to nurse me like a concerned nanny. When the security belt closes around me though, I find enough strength to struggle violently against it.

“Poor Isabeau!” he purrs, while patting my head. “This is of course your first interplanetary journey.”

Unnatural calmness comes over me, due to his fingers being in my hair and massaging my skin. I hate him invading all that is meant to be me: my body, my thoughts, my emotions and my memories.

With dry eyes I watch Sapuhru become smaller and smaller, a ruby glowing on a carpet of darkness.

“I will die right here and right now!” I manage to get out between clenched lips.

“Not when I can prevent it,” Vicomte Ankoù assures me.

I hate his smugness. It makes me sick. He acts as if he has the power over life and death. “You have no power over me,” I snarl.

He just gazes at me with sad eyes that speak a language on their own. A language that does not reach my heart any longer.

********************************************************************

Out in space time becomes meaningless. I feel so small and vulnerable, hardly dare to glance out of the small cabin window. Even though distant stars twinkle in the carpet of endless night, I fear that I will never see the sunlight again. I do not like the metal floor under my very feet either.

“I am not made for this,” I whisper.

When the giant oceans of Draconis fills my view I stop breathing. I never have seen so much water ever before.

The strange green of the continent underneath me frightens me even more. The jungle seems like a claw shooting out to catch me.

“Don’t be afraid. I feel it, too.” Vicomte Ankoù is very tense now.

As I gaze at him, he turns into a bend warrior in a black mask looking up to a helpless girl, who is strapped into a strange looking metal chair. When I blink the vision is gone again.

“Arcānā must have felt me coming,” I hear my foe mutter. “I should have been more careful.”

“I doubt very much that the _dauphine_ can feel you out here in space. She can neither hear you, smell you or see you. This is ridiculous!”

“Never ever underestimate that dreadful creature,” Vicomte Ankoù argues. “She is the product of generations of selected breeding and dangerous teachings.”

His nervousness is strangely transparent for me. Even though he wears his war mask and gloves now, his movements have an edgy touch to them.

We are entering the atmosphere and a strange glow surrounds the star ship.

The cloud formations that we fly through are enormous. No wonder that about three quarter of this world consists out of water. The sky above Sapuhru is very different.

The rainforest is actually scary. It seems to frame a giant river with countless side arms. I can see no clear separation between vegetation and water. I suppose that most land animals have to either swim or climb to make their way through this dense jungle environment. Only birds and fish, a very rare species on my home world, might to have a clear advantage.

I want to go back to the desert and spend the rest of my life in complete solitude.

There is a young voice in my head suddenly. A boy who says, “But old Ben lives somewhere out on the fringe of the Western Dune Sea. He’s kind of a local character.”

I shake my head to get rid of the acoustic shadow of the future.

********************************************************************

The air of Cunabula is loaded with moisture, turning breathing into a real torture. Once I step out of the space ship, I feel sticky and dirty beyond any means.

But it is the jungle that overwhelms my senses. Too many smells and sounds wash over me, seeking my attention.

The landing platform is empty, nobody is there to greet us. Perhaps our arrival is not important enough.

With wobbly legs I step forward into an unknown future.

Suddenly a voice fills my mind. **“Through the Force, things you will see, other places, the future, the past. Old friends long gone.“**

There it is again, my unwanted Force gift. Solitaire referred to it as ’Remote viewing’. I wish it would have stayed behind on Sapuhru. But it is part of me, always was. The jungle seems brings it out in me in full strength.

Face crimson, I bend at the knees and drop down to the wet metal platform all around me. My hair falls in front of my face immediately, hiding it from unwanted gazes.

“Isabeau, are you well?” wonders Vicomte Ankoù, a slight panic in his voice.

I take a deep, steadying breath before answering him. “Just getting used to this green hell around me,” I press out. “Leave me be!”

I hear him coming closer.

“Don’t!” I warn him, holding up my hand.

He steps back.

For a few heartbeats I just kneel there, unmoving. Then I square my shoulders. “Bring it on!”

The images and sounds are like a sand storm rushing towards me. Then I am in the eye of the storm.

**_Enveloped in the dark side, a powerful Force user enslaves an entire nation of warriors. He forces them to construct an intricate complex of massive temples throughout their jungle word. Those temples are used for cruel ceremonies and rites. He elevates himself as a god. Statues of him reach into the jungle sky, throwing their shadow everywhere. Also into a future that is even further away._ **

With all the strength that I possess I struggle back into the present. I am also fighting hard to get repossession of my body again. My focus is drawn inwards.

All that I am originates from the jungle around me. It is not my enemy, it is my alley. The Force is not. It is but a nuisance that distracts my instincts, messes around with my brain like Vicomte Ankoù did several times. I recall my muscle memory, listen to the echoes of my bones. Then I grasp it, the Dance of War.

“I can win this!” I mutter.

Capoeira, as Solitaire taught me via the holocron for many moon months, is a fast and versatile martial art which is historically focused on fighting outnumbered or in technological disadvantage. Well then, I am outnumbered and have more than one disadvantage against my step-brother. The more reason for me to fight back by the ancient law of tooth and claw.

My lips move all by themselves as I speak words that I heard my birth mother utter once. The war mantra of House Riwalan.

_“Through passion, I gain strength._  
_Through strength, I gain power._  
_Through power, I gain victory._  
_Through victory, my chains are broken.”_

Strength floods back into my limbs, anchoring them in the here and now. The future will not keep me as its slave. Nor will I ever serve Vicomte Ankoù as his pet ever again.

The ships engines howl and while I jump gracefully onto my feet, the dauphine appears out of nowhere. She is a storm of dark energy. Her green eyes are deeper than the jungle around us. More vivid. She wears a cotton sari that matches the colour of her intense eyes. Her blond mane is tamed with hundred of little braids. The only piece of jewellery she wears is a wooden amulet.

“You are not amused, darling?” Senator Aletheia addresses his wife.

A slight earthquake shakes the platform. “Guess!” she hisses.

********************************************************************

Chaos breaks lose in the jungle. Animals are fleeing, their voices dense with terror. I am somewhat reminded of Solitaire’s outburst back in the erg.

“Solitaire? Where is she? What happened?” Arcānā stares at me like some madwoman which causes Luçien to step protectively in front of me.

“Out of my way! I take this one,” I snap and to my surprise he obeys me.

The _dauphine_ leaps towards me, her eyes trying to suck my soul in. I do not shriek back. Instead I focus on my vivid memories of the dune sea.

“Stop hiding, _bambina_! I want the truth!”

“The truth?” I spit. “Here it is. The desert has many secrets and wants to keep them.”

She blinks at me, uncomprehending.

“Stay out of my head, Queeny!” My body gets into a defensive _caporeia_ movement, the _Queda de Quatro_.

Unbidden, a far away future mingles into my presence.

**_The boy gapes at the man who has just claimed to be his father. But he is only a monster in a mask. He will not follow this mad imposter into the darkness._ **

**_Through his agony, he remembers the alternative for fighting._ **

**_With courage he steps into eternity._ **

I move backwards so quickly, that I fall off the platform.

Driven by my survival instinct, I grip a vine and then another one. Like a monkey I tumble downwards, just to vanish into the surrounding jungle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: The Code of the Sith, known as Qotsisajak   
> “Tales of the Jedi”, a series of comic books published by Dark Horse Comics (1993 until 1998)   
> “Star Wars, Episode V: The Empire strikes back” (1980), a movie by the American film maker George Lucas   
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	9. Chapter 9

The river smells horrible. It looks like the greasy contents of a soup bowl. I cannot force myself to put a single toe in it. It moves too fast and contains too much life.

I can see a flock of birds swimming on the water, some of them diving for food. And in the distance there seemed to be some kind of predator fish, making its rounds in circles.

“Everything is wrong here!” I cry out.

“Really, Milady? How so?”

A man stands next to me, carrying a sort of parasol in one of his hands. It is closed.

“Who are you?” I bite out for I smelled his essence some place before on someone else.

His olive skin gives him away as an Amnionian citizen. I believe him to be slightly older than Senator Aletheia. His beard contains more white threads.

“Narthex.” He gives me a winning smile. “Simply Narthex.”

“And what are you?” I probe on for his knee-short tunic gives nothing away of his status. It is in ebony white. “Another Amnionian politician? Or the second husband of Her Devine Majesty?”

“Neither.” His smile broadens. “I am the personal master valet of the Prince Consort.”

He opens his parasol and holds it above us.

That very moment a heavy rain shower comes down on us.

I narrow my eyes. The Force is with this one, even though he denies it to himself. That makes him even more sympathetic to me. A trait that we share.

“If you would care to follow me,” Narthex says formally and offers me his left arm, while I am still baffled about his perfect timing.

********************************************************************

The master valet walks me through vast patches of jungle vegetation in which low bungalow houses with large windows are embedded. Amused faces, some reptilian and some humanoid, watch us.

Soon, we walk over great stone plazas with conscripted standing stones. Most of them are decorated with flower garlands.

“They are called orchids,” Narthex explains to me. “They represent the love between Ischáh and her children, the Ophidiae. In addition, they stand for luxury, beauty and strength.”

I smile at the master valet. My fondness of him grows with every heartbeat. His voice can suggest honey or a hidden stiletto blade. To be near him is somewhat intoxicating.

He adds, “It is better to offer the goddess honey and flowers instead of human skulls. In the old times we would have been forced to walk through a sea of dried blood.”

Somebody calls out to me. I know the voice pattern fairly well.

Immediately, I scan my surroundings for Senator Aletheia.

“Marquise!” He waves enthusiastically at me from one of the bungalows. “Narthex found you.”

“Indeed, milord,” the master valet calls back. “Her Ladyship had a walk by the river.”

“The more reason to ask her inside. She must be ravenous by now.”

This comment is more than true. I could devour an entire eopie. The jungle air makes me very hungry.

********************************************************************

I had suspected Senator Aletheia to live in a large palace with an army of servants and luxury beyond any imagination. Not in a bungalow like the natives. Once inside, I get another surprise. The interior is rather modern. A blue light globe and framed paintings of large water creatures give the living-room a marine atmosphere.

The prince consort is seated on a rotan sofa. Opposite to him sits Vicomte Ankoù. He is unmasked. Both men drink a sweet smelling substance that is mixed with lemon juice.

I scowl. But this is more due to the underlying scent of baby nappies that lies in the air. No one but me filters it out. I wonder where the royal serpent-spawn is. At least one of them must be inside the bungalow.

“Your towel, Madam.” The master valet grants me an honest smile.

Gingerly, I take it from him, eyeing him with high curiosity. Only now that I have calmed down I notice that he reeks of child contact. He must have changed a nappy recently and has used soap to clean his hands.

“Oh and Narthex, could you also manage more _café_ for all of us?” Senator Aletheia asks with a friendliness that I have never heard from any of my step-mothers towards our slaves. “Does Your Ladyship prefer Your _café_ with or without caffeine?”

Narthex seems embarrassed about his master’s question. “I presume Your Ladyship likes Your _café_ in the way all the desert people do: black as night without any sugar and also without any drop of bantha milk.”

When I slowly nod, the master valet smiles brightly. “Just as I thought. If you all will excuse me...”

While Narthex rushes away with sufficient grace and speed, the prince consort makes an inviting gesture. “Please have a seat, Milady!”

I sit down, my gaze lowered. Small talk is not my thing, never was. I simply stare at the table until the master valet is back, carrying a rosé sari. It is elegantly swung over his right underarm.

“The _café_ water is set and I took the freedom to open Her Ladyship’s suitcase for her. I thought she would feel more comfortable in her own garments.”

Senator Aletheia looks at Narthex with pride and gratitude. “What would this humble bungalow be without your insight and management skills!”

“Just another patch of wilderness on this planet, Sir. Which reminds me...” Supportive, the master valet offers me his arm. “Hot bath water awaits you in the bath chamber, Milady.”

I find myself getting up and link my arm with his. He radiates so much high confidence and reliability that he charms me easily.

“Take your time,” he advises me. “I will know when I can serve _dolmades_ , _souvlakia_ and _baklava_ for everybody.“

I have no clue what those dishes are, but I suppose them to be of Amnionian origin. For the sake of Narthex I will give them a try.

Beaming, I let the master valet accompany me to the bath chamber that is nicely tiled and yet so very unlike Sapuhrian architecture.

********************************************************************

Narthex seems to be at many places at once, rubbing my back with a sponge, serving café in the living-room and cooking delicious food in the kitchen. For a human his age he is lithe and fast. He seems to be a true master in everything that he does, yet he is free of hubris. Which makes him even more likeable.

“That was quite a treatment,” I beam, while I stand behind a paravent and dry myself with a soft, fluffy towel. I still smell of local herbs and flowers.

“Water, especially from the sacred cenotes, is a powerful element to the locals,” he explains, while tidying up the bath asses-soirs.

I believe the master valet that water can be a link to health and balance. To me, desert-born, water is the essence of life itself.

“The islanders perform their morning washing ritual at the local river. To them it is a prayer to their goddess. The water is her blood as much as the soil is her bones and the air is her spirit.”

Around Narthex I have no trouble to speak my mind. “No wonder that the river water is so dirty.”

He grins, his teeth flashing out as a white, firm line against the black of his beard. “Yet, they regard it as holy water.”

This leads me to a very important question. “Is it their cure for everything?”

To my relief the master valet shakes his head. “All illnesses are treated by their cool or hot relationship with energy flow levels. They use fire, earth and air as well. Holistic rituals one might say, based on their concept of the Unifying Force.” His smile widens. “In the end it comes down to this, milady: love, kindness, intuitive compassion, and listening in peace are the most important parts of the healing process.”

That does not sound very much like the fierce she-warriors that I have heard of. Creatures of the dark side, whirlwinds of doom.

Narthex seems to know what ails me. “The change came during the Star Wars already. Some members of the priesthood saw the devastation, not only in the land but within the hearts of many. The framework of the Force itself was in peril.”

I find myself holding my breath.

“So courageous snake priestesses started to sacrifice themselves for the well-being of others. They were little acts of kindness in a world that had spun out of control. But those deaths left imprints. They were like little lights. The dark side could not win against such acts of unselfishness. The light began to spread, it still does.”

Sickness pits deep in my stomach, curling and knotting into a painful ball. There is no healing possible between Vicomte Ankoù and me. I cannot live in his shadow, nor can I breathe around him. He is too oppressive, his darkness too overwhelming.

When Narthex offers me one of my indoor saris, woven from a fabric as light as a breeze, I hesitate. I am not sure if I can ever get myself to wear one ever again. Dirty paws have polluted what once was mine. I better burn the lot.

“So you would prefer something local already, milady?” he asks, a knowing smile on his lips.

Gratefully, I nod.

Narthex vanishes from the bathroom and returns after a while. He carries a light brown dress with pretty ornaments. “This is a _cuyuscate_. They are very common on the Holy Isle.”

I give him a grateful smile.

“It goes with this hair sash,” he explains.

“Thank you,” I breathe.

The master valet comes a step closer. “It is not my place to interfere between you and your noble step-brother,” he says bluntly. “But I can see that he truly loves you.”

“That may be,” I reply. “But I do not feel any affection for him any more. He has become a total stranger. Perhaps I never knew him.”

He looks at me with great sadness.

I feel that I owe him an explanation of sorts. It is the most honest one I can think of. “Vicomte Ankoù has been in my head ever since I stumbled into his life.” My voice becomes small as I admit those acts of mental harassment. “I have come to believe that he tampered with my memory during more than one occasion.”

********************************************************************

As we re-enter the living-room, the prince consort is just saying, “I advise you to have some clear mineral water from the Highlands along with the wine. Arcānā imports it especially for me.” He chuckles. “My body gets slightly upset from the local river water.“

Vicomte Ankoù’s gaze meets mine. His cat eyes glitter with conflicting emotion. Something tells me that he has found unnatural ways to spy on me. It serves him well to be confronted with his crimes like this. In time I will not only tell Narthex.

My lips thin and bitterness crawls into my chest.

Just as I am about to sit down the master valet pours me a cup of café. He is gone again before my polite thanks is fully out of my mouth. I still feel the reassuring pressure of his hand on my left shoulder though.

Then the promised _dolmades_ arrive. They are obviously meat rolled in leaves.

“Where will they go, once I have dropped them off for you?” inquires Vicomte Ankoù abruptly, concern written over his features.

Senator Aletheia stays smiley. I start to wonder if that man ever feels the slightest panic. He is as poised and controlled as Narthex. The question remains who is the master and who is the student. “They will stay in Ceilonwyn.” With that he begins breaking bread. “In my eyes they are neither political activists nor dangerous criminals.”

I suspect that they are talking about Ahearne and his two companions. It feels like high treason somehow. I wish they would not discuss it while I am around.

“Don’t you think it is dangerous to go through with this plan?” Vicomte Ankoù probes. “Your wife will not be happy about your act of clemency.”

“I will talk to Arcānā about Ruadhan soon enough. Other things have more priority.” Suddenly, something feral lurks behind the prince consort’s polite façade. An iron will that is better not challenged. “My niece, I want you to keep her out of harm’s way. Is that understood?”

Vicomte Ankoù tenses, his entire body bristling with rage.

An olive coloured fist comes down on the table and makes me jump. “Let me be very clear of this, Luçien!” shouts Senator Aletheia. “You owe me. This one you owe me. A life for a life.”

The answer explodes in a rush of air. “As you wish.”

“Good. Then I will not mention the obvious again.”

Senator Aletheia deals out the bread pieces and gives me an apologetic smile that reaches his eyes. I begin to understand why I am really here on this isle. This has nothing to do with the generosity of the prince consort. I am sort of a hostage. Yet, I cannot hate him for this bold plan. My admiration is for real.

The main dish arrives. It consists of small pieces of meat and vegetables grilled on a skewer. We all remain silent, but I prefer it this way. There is not much that I could possibly add to a civilized conversation.

Straight after the gorgeous dessert – thin pastry layers filled with nuts and pistachios – I fall sound asleep.

********************************************************************

When I awake it is pitch dark outside. The jungle is rather alive. Creatures jump and fly through the night. Above all hangs the exotic smell of ginger blossoms.

I am still in the living-room. Narthex seems to have decided to let me sleep in here, with a blanket draped over me. At least Vicomte Ankoù is no where to be seen, but I better check out his whereabouts.

Barefoot, I get up and sneak through the house.

In the master bedroom I hear Senator Aletheia snore happily in his bed.

The guest bedroom, where Vicomte Ankoù is supposed to be, is empty.

I shake my head in dismay and move on.

Narthex is not in his bed either. I hear the muffled sound of his voice from outside.

“I am very sorry, Your Highness, but young Ankoù left hours ago. An urgent mission requires his attention. There was no need to inform you, I hope.”

Arcānā is not _d’accord_. “He sneaks out on me like a thief in the middle of the night. This is against protocol.”

“It is a mission of life and death.”

“Life? Since when does he possess any life giving qualities?” she spits.

“His basic training was that of a Force healer, a beaton. Not even the honoured Mistress Yeotenn could have foreseen...”

“His fall from grace?”

The _dauphine_ races up and down the veranda, reminding me of a trapped animal. But Narthex seems to be in no danger from her. For some reason this humble man keeps her anger within at bay. Like the lid of a cookery pot is a barrier for boiling water.

“That holocronwas as dear to me. And so was its owner.”

“I see. This is why you send Solitaire straight into the lion’s den. Just to get murdered. I wonder what your understanding of love is.”

Arcānā blinks at the master valet, lacking for words.

I hear dangerous rustles in the surrounding jungle, see shapes move.

“Hold!” the dauphine bellows into the night. “This man is no danger nor is he insulting me. He is just my father. My silly, useless father.”

Whatever lurks in the dark, it draws back from the bungalow, but it is still out there.

“Dad,” Arcānā says very softly, “I do appreciate all that you have done for this family so far, but do not trifle with me.”

“Is this a death threat?” He looks back at her evenly.

The _dauphine_ wrings her hands. “Simply a kind warning.”

“And is it you speaking or Mórag, your dark mistress?”

“She has no power over me.” Defiance is written all over Arcānā.

As tension is growing, I creep back into my own room and sink onto my sofa again.

Happy families are a rare species in this universe. Besides, their conflict with one another had kept them both so busy that they had not been aware of me. Perhaps the Force dulls the natural senses. Too many Midi-chlorians that have to be taken care of.

********************************************************************

The next morning I am alone in the kitchen. I pour myself café from an Amnionian thermos pot. The sturdy mug in my hand feels so real, so good. I use some breathing techniques, Solitaire had me study, to settle down my fast heart beat.

My ancestors are from the Mother Jungle. There are no reasons why I cannot get used to it. I must simply allow my new environment to penetrate me, to become part of my soul. The less I will fight against my heritage, the greater my survival chances will be. It is as simple as that.

I lean my brow against the panorama window.

The Holy Isle of Cunabula is a wondrous place. It is more jungle than city, more wilderness than civilization. Plants and buildings seem to form a strange symbioses. The Unifying Force, in which Solitaire believed, seems to be everywhere, sending its breath to all the crude matter and changing it into something more.

Suddenly, I fall out of the threads of time.

**_The return of peace to the realm is celebrated throughout the city. Everybody on the big piazza is cheerful about the hard-won victory. There has been much death and destruction._ **

**_Close to the girl in white with by far too much make-up on her face stands a man in blue garments. He is a gentleman at his prime, looking very amiable. An air of confidence and friendliness is all around him. Yet his eyes are as dark as his robes. And the heart in his chest is the darkest thing on that bright day._ **

A voice next to me makes me jump with fright.“Milady? Is there anything that I can do for you?”

I bet Narthex is more than a mere manservant. The way he sneaked up on me, he must be a trained assassin. There is no doubt about that.

“That will not be necessary. I already helped myself to some café.”

“How very good of you, milady.” There is something in his brown eyes that is not easy to judge.

Weighing my chances, I go for an honest approach. “I am to understand that Vicomte Ankoù is gone?”

His eyebrows go up, but not for long. “His Lordship is on a mission for my master. He did not want to wake you up when he left. It did not seem appropriate to him.”

“He would really go all the way to Amnion for a niece of the Prince Consort?”

Narthex remains silent.

I decide to speak out what is really on my mind. “I also could not help to overhear that your daughter is oppressed by a powerful Force user. Someone that goes by the name of Mórag?”

His pupils widen.

“Arcānā pities me. I know how much strength it costs to be a person on one’s own account. Especially with a darksider in the family.”

“Please let us have some spice biscuits for now. I had no breakfast this morning.” Unasked, Narthex pours me more café. “The senator and your noble brother will not be back before noon. They are fishing together.”

I cannot help it, but a deep and very intimate sound of comfort escapes me.

Narthex gives me a happy look, finally granting himself some _café_. He takes very small sips.

The silence between the two of us is perfect. It is soothing and reassuring. I bathe in it. For a while. There is this strange odour I cannot blank out that easily.

“May I ask you something, Narthex? What is this smell? Did you lose somebody dear to you? Has your daughter killed anyone around here?”

********************************************************************

The look in the master valet’s eyes turns dark at my request. His answer comes out careful though. “I hope my story will help you to judge my daughter Arcānā right, milady.”

A good story is always welcome at a nomad campfire. It sharpens the senses, widens the horizon. To understand matters grants survival in the desert.

If I am to survive my exile here on Draconis and Arcānā’s temper, I need to understand.

Narthex gazes out of the large panorama window where the night shadows gather. He takes a long, considerate sip from his mug, before he starts his story. “God queen Tamisra and I met on a market place on my home world, where I did the daily shopping for the senator’s household. I did not know who she was or what she was.”

His voice is dreamy, loaded with strong images from the past.

“How she spotted me in the crowd and singled me out, I do not know. My shopping bags fell out of my hands for no reasons. Their content was suddenly rolling all over the market place. I did not know much about telekinesis or any other Force skill back then. And Tamisra was a born actress. She helped me to clear the mess and accompanied me home. We did not touch. We did not kiss. We simply smiled at one another. I did not even ask for her name. All I could do was looking into her green eyes that shone so bright.”

Knowing some Ophidea by now I ask myself how much it had taken the queen mother to act that innocent.

“We made an appointment for the next day, because it was the weekend and I was off from my duties. Agathos had some family matters to attend to without me. He even did lend me his personal boat. As for Tamisra: she had a decoy acting for her as god queen. I found out about it much later.”

I poured myself some more coffee with a smug grin.

“During our second night together out on the ocean we were very close and I forgot all what I had learned about the mind being the master of the body.” From the tone his voice went Narthex had the time of his life on that boat. “I insisted I’d marry her, but she denied. The concept of marriage is not known to her people. The next morning I woke alone on a boat in the middle of the ocean. I was totally taken aback. As quick as she had entered my life, she vanished from it again.”

He falls silent.

I wait several heartbeats, before asking, “When were you reunited with the queen mother?” I ask him softly.

“We never were.”

I frown. “Why not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “Star Wars, Episode I: The Phantom Menace” (1999), a movie by the American film maker George Lucas   
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	10. Chapter 10

The morning air is unbearably thick and leaves a film of sweat on my skin. I am soaked through when we finally reach a spot that is guarded by pure-blood Ophidiae.

All of them are heavily armed with bows, swords, daggers and blow pipes. Is it possible that they are part of Arcānā’s mysterious shadow guard? Their lidless eyes rest on us in cold, watchful ways when we pass them, but they do neither approach us nor address us. A fact that I am glad of.

My neck hair stands up and every fibre of my body is highly alerted. Any wrong movement and we will be dead in an instant.

We walk over to a small plaza that is framed by standing stones. Narthex comes to a halt and touches one of the ornamented columns next to him.

A strange glass cubicle rises from the ground, lit by green orbs.

Even though my stomach feels close to explode I step inside the cubicle.

I let the master valet hold my hand when the lift starts to vanish into the earth again.

Then there is so much light that it hurts my eyes. Automatically, I cover them with one of my hands.

“We are inside the Draconis now, the ship that once came from Terra,” Narthex explains in no great haste. “It crashed down into the jungle centuries ago. Right in front of the great pyramid. It was considered as a sign of the Unifying Force. So it was never moved.”

I know about underground cities on my own home planet, but I have never seen such strange beauty. Big eyed I gape around.

“This is the heart of their culture. The Ophidiae store all the records of the lost human home world in this facility.” He makes a displeased sound. “The famous underground laboratories are also down here. Genetical experiments, research for artificial limbs, you name it.”

“The zombies?” I prompt.

His expression is grave. “No, you will find the rest of their plague in the royal crypts only. Powerful Force magic and an old pact with the Living hinders them to come forth.”

It should make my heart lighter to hear thus, but it does not.

There is also something else that makes me jumpy. What I experience all around me is more than the remains of a star ship. All my senses tell me that I have entered something alive. Strange sensations fill my brain, not threatening, but intense.

“Come now, we better go to the place where Tamisra... rests,” Narthex announces softly.

********************************************************************

The master valet leads me through long corridors and great hallways. We pass decently dressed Ophidea women of mixed blood. They wear white, coat-like dresses.

Narthex and I are ignored by everybody in a friendly way until we enter a district that is surrounded by glass as white as bantha milk.

“Where do you think you are taking this thing, Narthex?”

A tall woman saunters towards us. She wears a yellow gown and her skin is ornamented with many tattoos. To look at them leaves an imprint in my mind. They are like snakes that move. I remember the vision I had many moon weeks ago. The one about Arcānā giving birth. The half-blood in front of me is a high priestess of the snake goddess.

Narthex starts arguing with the woman in the language of the Holy Isle. I have a different agenda.

My right hand moves towards the scanner, which guards the entrance to Tamisra’s sickbed.

I have my own legacy here. My first physical contact with the royal holocron has given me a special burn-mark. One that cannot be erased. And I bet that Vicomte Ankoù has tried over and over again. For him it is a sign of my shame. To me it is an entrance ticket.

Smiling to myself, I place my palm on the scanner.

The bioscanner does its work and the door slides open.

There she is, the god queen Tamisra Cruor Tjiehenet.

I swallow hard.

She is not what I have expected.

I press a hand against my mouth, trying to calm myself.

Narthex and the high priestess enter behind me. There is no need for me to turn around. I can hear how the Ophidiae is silenced by a soft raise of the master valet’s hand.

“What happened?” I am not able to take my eyes off the sad remains of what had been once a woman’s body.

“Force lightning,” comes Narthex unceremonious reply.

“Was she... in the line of fire when it happened?”

“Tamisra tried to stop our daughter frying everybody else in the throne room.”

“I see.” It is good to know what Arcānā is capable of. “And did your daughter stop?”

“When Tamisra’s features melted from her skull, Arcānā regained her conscience.” The emotion is lacking of his voice. He taught himself to tell this part of the story as a matter-of-fact. “She was screaming louder than her mother did, I was told later by a confidential source.”

“Why is Tamisra still left alive?” I frown.

The high priestess shrieks and rush forward to attack me, but I lift my right palm and hold it in front of my chest. “It would be foolish to try to kill me, dominae mea. Solitaire taught me well.”

“Solitaire?” The woman is completely taken aback.

“Yes.” I nod solemnly. “I accepted her as my mistress not shortly after her unnatural death through Vicomte Ankou’s hand.”

“A dark acolyte.” Now the high priestess beams. “What a fortunate coincidence!”

“Call me what you want.” My voice is as cool as the artificial air that is put through the regal lungs by a machine. “I answer to nobody but my own conscience.”

“You are indeed Solitaire’s acolyte.” The high priestess vanishes with a mysterious smile.

Narthex grants me a sad look. “I should have known.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I am what I am. There is no point in denying it. Once a choice is made in the desert, as it was by me, it is a choice for life. And you would not be here with me, Narthex, if love, compassion and pity would not be your motives. I have my own.”

His brown eyes drill into mine. “And the dark side?”

I laugh. “I just learned fighting skills from Solitaire and would not be shown anything else.”

********************************************************************

We have a great lunch, Narthex and I. There is soup as a starter: _Avgolemono_ , with lemon and chicken meat.

A salad arrives, containing tomatoes, sliced cucumbers, onion, feta cheese and olives.

Soon the master valet serves the main dishes. I like the souvlaki best. It is an Amnionian speciality made with tender cuts of meat. There are also snails, baked pasta dishes with a filling, mussels, oven-baked _ratatouille_ and fried squid rings.

The dessert – sesame seed candy – brings everything to a wonderful ending.

Narthex and I toast to one another. I am the one saying the blessing. “To honesty and the light side of the Force!”

“Are you sure that Solitaire had no hidden agenda with you?” he inquires, his eye brows drawn together.

“Her agenda was love. She loved your daughter with all her might. A love like her inspires.”

“Love.” He sounds bitter all of a sudden. “Let me show you more examples of the love my daughter has shown to us lately.”

********************************************************************

His right hand is cramped around his mug, when the master valet leads me through the bungalow. After some turns we enter a small room, where I can see an empty glass box with cables attached to it. The power is shut off.

“It is the incubator of my grandson Aconite. The Unmentionable.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” I quip up.

“Oh, he’s not dead. Not yet.” The shadow of a smile appears on his lips. “He is with my niece on Amnion. She lost her own child recently. With his olive taint and his dark curls he will fit in straightaway.”

Now I know where Vicomte Ankoù went. But it was never about a niece of the prince consort. I must have misunderstood.

“I heard the boy wailing inside the holy birth cave. Agathos and I exchanged but one look. It was clear to us that something was amiss. Then we both ran inside, ignoring our own security. Nobody did stop us though. But they did not help us either. The Untouchables do not exist for the Ophidiae.”

This confession mirrors the nomad traditions of the dune sea. When somebody loses his face, he becomes an outcast of the tribe. Like a ghost, that person will be invisible forevermore. It is never done to children though. Especially not to a newborn baby.

“What if the boy is strong in the Force?” There is this foreboding in me. “It is strong in your family. Even I can sense that.”

He strokes through his curly beard. “Aconite is not strong in the Force at all. In that respect he is somewhat crippled. This is perhaps why my daughter was never keen on him in the first place.”

“Thanks for being so open with me, Narthex.” Suddenly, I feel the pulse of a light. It is hard to ignore. “What is that?”

“To explain a phenomena like Grianán is difficult.” The master valet’s eyes turn dreamy. “I better introduce her to you. The inquisitive mind of my granddaughter is hard to be contained. Her thoughts leak out like tickelish sunbeams now and then.”

I hear my mother’s voice speaking into my head. She uses the same words as before.

“The belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead.”

********************************************************************

The royal pyramid gleams like gold in the morning light. After a long ascent of more than four hunderd stairs, we enter the royal bed chamber. It is a lofty room with no walls, but lined with stone columns. Colourful panels of fabric are wrapped around them. Almost everything is bathed in sunlight.

A very spacious hammock is the centre piece of the chamber, made out of a strong cotton cloth that has about the diameter of my thumb. At least twenty grown-ups would be able to sleep very comfortably in here. Two large wooden masts, decorated with gorgeous ornaments, are holding the construction up.

Something tugs at my soul. It is a playful contact. There is nothing slithery about it or forceful.

“Hallo there!” I giggle as I step closer to the hammock. Six humanoid babies lie in it, locked into one another like a jumble of snakes. Five are sleeping.

_“Tu as des beaux yeux,”_ I start muttering in my mother tongue towards a tiny baby face. 

A pair of grey eyes gazes up at me.

I reach into the bed nest of the second royal serpent-spawn.

Princess Grianán Arcānā Tjiehenet is as light as a feather. Her limbs are ridiculously delicate. They mock the strength of her clear gaze.

I cradle the girl against me and blow a kiss against the wisp of golden hair. I take up her scent, freeze it into my memory. Then a bewildering question for her grandfather leaves my mouth. “Arcānā re-animated this one with Force lightening?”

Narthex starts to rock the huge hammock.

“Did your daughter use dark side energies to bring this baby back to the living?” I rephrase my question patiently, still letting my fingers wander over the little princess in amazement and awe.

I hear a secret door open.

The _dauphine_ steps out of a dark and narrow passage way. “You were never a mother and never will be, bambina,” she sneers, “So there is no way that I can make you understand.”

Where ever Arcānā just came from, it is a place infested by the dark side. She reeks of decay and dark secrets.

I take a considerate step back. My true self gets the better of me though and I reply, “Understanding? You lack of it, Queeny. Not I. You tore this one back from paradise to trap her in hell.”

We face one another like hostile armies, Grianán helpless between us.

Narthex is a by-stander here, but an attentive one. I know he will interfere before things will totally get out of hand. For now he restrains himself, wearing his dispassionate servant mask. Not even his eyes give his feelings away. I admire him for that. Flames of passion devour me.

“You are obsessed with the ones that you love,” I tell the young mother straightaway. “You should not abuse your Force powers that way. You plunge your family into darkness and despair.”

Her eyes sparkle with displeasure. I can swear that tinges of red and yellow mix into her emerald eyes. “On this I will not be lectured by you,” she breathes.

Tough for the _dauphine_ , for she is forced to listen to me. The baby girl in my arms is the very proof that another dangerous line has been crossed. “I am asking you to be rational. For the sake of your children.”

“The day my favourite sister died on me, I swore myself that I will learn to stop people from dying. The ancestors helped me to learn what I need for my mission.”

The zombies. She talked to them. I cannot congratulate Arcānā on that choice. She is not even grasping a sliver of where her stubbornness will lead to in a far away future. Others will follow her extremely bad example. As a _bohémienne_ , knowing the pure ways of the desert, I have to give her one important bit of advice. “Train yourself to let go... of everything you fear to lose.”

She is not convinced in the least. “Even if I need to spend a lifetime seeking power over death, I will go this path. _In umbris potestas est._ Which means in plain Basic: _In the shadows, there is power._ Do not lecture me on how to lead my life and how to raise my children!”

Grianán starts crying in protest in her mother’s arms. The child does not seem to like us getting mad with one another, but that cannot be helped. Arcānā and I will never be at peace. “I am afraid that you have to listen to any and all subjects that regard the serpent-spawn from now on.”

Her laugh is bitter. “You have been here for less than one day and you pick your second fight with me already. Who do you think you are?”

Daring to argue with her once more, I take a bold step forward. “The new nanny!”

“A nanny?” Mockery displaces her anger. “I cannot remember that I asked for one.”

“Discuss that with the Force itself!” My accusing pointer finger pokes her into her chest. “You complicated things for Grianán here. It is too much power for any one being to carry. She could get drunken from her own abilities, and worse.”

“You mistake her for your bastard step-brother. He is power hungry beyond means.” Her eyes blaze like red twin suns. “He wants to control what people think and what they believe in.”

“Grianán here will break if you do not change for her.”

“I will provide her with the best training possible for her Force abilities,” Arcānā suggests generously.

“Yeah, right!” I spit out with contempt. “I saw that brilliant and unfailing training of yours with your acolyte. Wait, she never left Sapuruh alive to report to you.”

Arcānā’s eyes start to glow in that ugly yellow colour that I dread so much.

“Calm down, Queeny! You are breast feeding!” I remind her. “I do not want the children to start sucking up your rage by their mother milk already.”

The dauphine has to laugh and the situation relaxes. “I did not require a nanny, but it seems that I have found one anyway.”

Narthex gives me a grateful smile. “A diamond in the rare.”

“More a blood diamond, Dad.”

********************************************************************

When I walk down from the royal pyramid, I feel like I lived a thousand years all in one day. But the price for all my angst, suffering and uncertainty is worth while. I have encountered Grianán. The light side and the dark of the Force, both are palpable in that little child. I want to make sure that she stays en route. That her siblings stick to the light, too.

Solitaire was wise to get me involved. I have to bow to her understanding and future vision. She got a rebellious Lidérc for the job position that is much needed within the royal household.

The entrance to Cunabula’s underworld is not guarded, as I expected. The Ophidea believe in the concept of free will. The dark side is a choice.

_“Emotion, yet peace._  
_Ignorance, yet knowledge._  
_Passion, yet serenity._  
_Chaos, yet harmony.”_

The stench of centuries breathes into my face as I walk down the stone staircase.

Once Grianán starts down the dark path, it will forever dominate her destiny.

_“Bon jour,”_ I call out into the darkness. 

My senses are as tight as my body, but I do not fear the holy ancestors. They are not my people. And certainly not sacred in any way.

“As you all may know, my name is Isabeau. I am of Clan Riwalan, the receding ones.”

They have gathered around me, but keep quiet like a sulking bunch of children. It seems a nuisance for them to talk to somebody who does not accept any known concept of the Force.

“There are some necessary changes on the way for the royal family. You will not see their lot anymore. This ends today.”

A pair of hateful yellow eyes looks straight into mine. **“You are certain of yourself, Scion of the Force,”** an unpleasant voice speaks straight into my head. **“It was not always thus.”**

I gaze back at the distorted figure that was once a living humanoid. Its hate has given it a shadow existence. It is trapped between endless decay and the lust for life. But still I am not afraid. Only repulsed and, I must admit, thoughtful. **“Growing up is never easy.”** I shrug. **“Not unlike coming to rest one’s soul, I suppose.”**

**“Are you finished down here?”** the Force phantom hisses.

I smile sweetly. “You have not received my present for you yet.”

With that I bite my finger and three precious blood drops feed the ground.

The earth seems to shift a bit.

A ball of green light explodes and brings an eerie brightness to the place.

In the ancestor’s gallery, about forty seated figures slowly begin to rise. The crackling of their brittle, blood-stained crements fills the air.

“I guess, now I am finished,” I state as I look at the awakening zombies, who continue their slow descent from the gallery.

So blood is the answer. The only thing that animates their lot to more than just a ghost show. I will keep that in mind.

“Then I hope we have seen the last of you,” the entity suggests acidly. Its features change rapidly, become more solid. “You know very well that ancient laws forbid us to feed on members of Clan Riwalan.”

War-clubs are raised by crumpling fingers.

“But you can smash my skulls in and claim it was an accident,” I ponder, while more and more Marigold petals spill from withered laps. Twenty more zombies want to join the killing party. “Just one for thing before I humbly take my leave of you...”

**“Yes?”**

I watch more and more desiccated fingers grip ancient battle weapons. With both hands I am at the throat of the phantom menace before me. I squeeze as much as I can. “This place here will seem to you like a vale of sunshine if you ever lure one of the current serpent-spawn down here.”

With that I push the ancestor away from me and turn my back on the Holy Crypts. In my own due time I make my ascent back into the rosy evening air. The hieroglyphs, written in the blood of martyrs, hold them back down there.

********************************************************************

A woman in a yellow sari waits for me just outside the entrance. She is not alone. A furious girl, about five years old, stands next to her. I can tell that the child is not one of the older royal princesses. Those are all dressed in green. So this must be a commoner, if such things exist here on Draconis. I am not sure if there is a caste system like I know it from my own home world.

“Aranea, let me have a word with the Marquise!” the woman donned as a snake priestess interferes. She has a kind face.

The girl sulks. “If you would not be with Mora so much, you could guard that blasted entrance better. You are the bloody gate keeper, are you not?”

“People who are determined to go down there for advice will always find a way in there.” The priestess does funny gestures with her hands while she talks. There seems to be a pattern in it. Her fingers radiate power. “Blockades of any kind are useless.”

The small face becomes a mask of disgust. “There must be a medicine against stupidity, Clementia.”

The snake priestess gazes lovingly at Aranea. “I fear there is not.”

“So, gate keeper,” I address Clementia straightforwardly. “What else is worth guarding on this island?”

She laughs out heartily. “You are already where you are most desperately needed. At the royal court. These days Arcānā seldom listens to Agathos or Narthex. You are the fresh desert wind who will keep not only the holy ancestors away.”

I feel like I have to make a lot of things clear here. “First of all the royal princesses and princes will have to learn to take proper care of themselves. Like your crypt. That is the most important clue to their survival.”

Her eyes glint at me with humour. “You have come to the right place then, my dear Marquise.”

“And what about you, little fuzz ball?” I look straight at the girl.

She marches towards me, determined to kick me in the shin. I make an elegant caporeia movement, that sends her flying into a nearby bush.

As she struggles out of it again, I come to stand next to her. “I see great potential in you, young one.”

Her anger transforms into glee within an instant.

I crouch down to her eye level. “Judging from your battle wounds...,” I point at her marred chest, “...you are a brave fighter against the dark side of the Force already. We could train together from time to time.”

The girl studies my face with wonder, then gives herself an unselfconscious shake. “When I may,” she replies with a new politeness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: Writing on the Holocron of Heresies  
> The Jedi Code, an alternate version   
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	11. Chapter 11

Aranea decides to become my own shadow guard straight away, which is not a problem. The royal family knows her already. She is an orphan, who got sort of adopted by Arcānā recently. I think it is a clever gambit. Real dedication cannot be bought. It comes natural.

In the days to come, I meet the royal offspring one by one. They have been out there in the jungle all the time, watching me. Now that they know that I have no love for Vicomte Ankoù either, they bid me welcome.

It does not take long until they invite me out into their private kingdom to play. I am not easily fooled. They are still testing me, curious, little beasts that they are.

The _heliconide_ leaves the blood red orchid, flying towards me. Its fragile insect body is absolutely motionless while it drinks from the _bromelia_ next to my nose. The insect is yellow with wide black stripes. The length of its body is impressive. It swallows the nectar almost ferociously before travelling on to the next blossom.

On this planet the wildlife is very colourful and exotic. I rather like dull and practical better. Banthas are not really beauties, but at least more useful than this butterfly like being. The jungle is full of flying insects that seem just pretty.

“Got you!” Prince Sereno says triumphantly behind me, tapping me on my back. “Hey, everybody I found, Isa! Yeah! I am so good!”

Playing hide and seek with telepaths is somewhat pointless. “Are you still a good seeker with your nose being broken?”

The young prince kisses my neck and runs off again, laughing. “Catch us if you can, Isa.”

The rest of the afternoon I spend looking for the royal bunch, managing to get my clothing in a total mess.

Playing in a desert just gets you covered in sand and dust. A state that I love. I like the fact that sand is rough. Its grains are like reality being rubbed into your face. And not in a pampering, careful manner. Nothing wrong with growing up that way at all.

A rainforest is utterly different. It turns you into a swamp monster covered with plant life. There are also armies of insects. The past weeks I have been bitten by things that I had never heard of. It is tiresome.

I am more than happy when Narthex appears with a firm face and announces that dinner is ready. When his enquiring look crosses mine, I blow a kiss into his direction. The master valet gives me a wink.

“Game over!” I shout into the thick undergrowth. “I am off now, kiddos!”

My feet just fly towards the royal bungalow in a mad frenzy. In fact, I am quicker than the children.

One by one, they come onto the veranda, even dirtier than I am. I feel like giving me a thumbs up for myself.

“You can take an Ophidiae child out of the jungle, but not the jungle out of an Ophidiae child,” concludes Senator Aletheia with a chuckle. He is wearing his daily tunic, nothing posh. “Good evening, family. As I can see everybody had a pleasant day.”

I really like his humour, but I cannot agree with his definition of pleasantness. Does the jungle not drive him as crazy as it drives me? I feel all of my ant bites with a severe clarity. Cunabula is a green hell.

Fortunately, I do not need to answer, because a chorus line of child voices rises. It is hard to follow at first, but after a while it gets easy to identify who actually says what.

A _sesia apiformis_ has landed on Princess Caelestris’ nose as she was picking flowers.

Her twin sister Princess Aréte has watched the love making of arrow frogs at the river. Prince Phosphoros had been with her.

Princess Adamah speaks about a spotted _cuscus_ whom she tried to teach tricks, while Sereno obviously tried to steal a feather from a scale-throated hermit.

I give the boy a frown, because a hummingbird is a fast creature. Does the Unifying Force grant a child unusually quick reflexes?

“Nothing is impossible with the Force,” whispers Prince Èleos towards me in such a low voice that I doubt very much that anybody else has heard him.

“Formidable”, I answer with the same soft volume. “Play hide and seek with the Shesha guards in future then.”

I turn my face away from him and concentrate on my own plate. This _mousaka_ is gorgeous.

********************************************************************

In the evening, I decide to take up a stroll to the royal pyramid. It has been a while since I checked on Grianán and her five twin siblings.

From one heartbeat to the next, I feel my entire skull vibrating. I quickly hide behind a stele column.

And there he is, a tall figure in a grey, hooded cloak. He materializes and more onto the plaza.

I smirk, my blood boiling in my veins.

The druid is not aware of my presence. Lidérc are hard to track down for them. We are the perfect predators.

His curse dies long before completion. I rip his throat open with my bare teeth.

While his eyes turn glassy, I lie on his chest and drill my fingernails into his temples. There will be no telepathic message. Only his continued silence can give cause to alarm his fellow druid brothers.

Then it dawns on me: there are others like him on the royal island. The Order of Light has attacked the royal family before. It is known.

I run as I never have run before. My lungs are on the brink of bursting, but I double my speed. Darkness is gathering. I can feel that with every fibre of my body. This is what my ancestors have been trained for, bred for.

Instead of taking the countless stairs that lead to the top, I listen to my adrenaline level. I take off my sandals and start to climb.

A baby voice whimpers in protest. It is Grianán.

My body functions all by itself, a lethal weapon set to kill.

My victim stands about three feet away from me in front of the hammock. In his right hand he waves a large wand. He must not speak his blasted spell.

_Capoeira_ is the answer. I am in the air in no time.

When the druid turns around it is too late. My face hit his with full force. His tongue tastes strange. I spit it out immediately.

To get his wand is no problem either. He is shaking uncontrollably with shock. I throw the magical artefact far behind me.

“Never the babies!” I howl. “Do you hear me? Never the babies!”

In the back of my mind a future vision unravels.

A tall human, dressed in dark robes, ignites a blue flame. Frightened children look up to him. He attacks them despite their young age. Despite their helplessness.

I stab my claws into the druid’s eyes and his chest, fighting against a future that is written in the stars.

Over and over again I stab my opponent until I collapse on him, my vision fading.

********************************************************************

In the weeks to come after the incident, I deepen my friendship with Narthex. The old buzzard teaches me a thing or two about the ways of a true assassin. It leaves me with blue marks and cuts all over, but I appreciate hard training sessions the hard way. The are like a map showing were I am heading to.

Soon, I get acquainted with Misera, the secret service agent who used to be Tamisra’s decoy. She is a promising sparing partner for my daily caporeia practice. We complement each other.

With some brave Shesha guards I study more bamboo cane fighting. For some reason Vicomte Ankoù kept mine, but Senator Aletheia has a new one for me one afternoon. I am grateful to him.

“I admire your bravery, my dear Marquise.” His brown human eyes sparkle with mirth.

“Bravery alone will not help against the dark side of the Force,” I retort. “Or maundering druids.”

“Discipline certainly helps.”

We stand on the veranda of his bungalow together, gazing into the jungle. His older children are inside, using their holocrons at teaching devises. Arcānā nurses the younger ones up in the pyramid. Since the assassination attempt she hardly leaves their side anymore.

“Why do I have the feeling that you are about to tell me something unpleasant, Senator?” I prompt.

He grins so wide, that it gives him a boyish touch. “You focus on the negative.”

“Am I? Well, experience is a good teacher.”

His assessing gaze is discrete. “You are about to experience my side of the family. They arrive in three weeks time.”

That certainly is a surprise. “I understood from Narthex that they are not overly found of your wife. That some of them want her dead and gone.”

There it is again, that steely core I experienced in the Prince Consort recently. “You can’t always get what you want.” He grinds his teeth. “I feel in love with Arcānā seven years ago. We have children together. The rest of the Aletheia family has to learn to live with that.”

“While you give your best to cope with Force invested children,” I prompt.

“The Force is not a disease, my dear Marquise.” If he is offended, his eyes do not show nor does his body language. “It is an enrichment, if used wisely. I am glad that you have come to us. You might be the best thing that ever happened to the children.”

“We both know that I have a hostage status,” I challenge him.

“In the beginning, yes. But I altered that already. You are very much deserving.” His smile gets to me. It is like a knife cutting through the layers of my bitterness. “War times bring strange allies together.”

“What war?” I inquire. “The Star Wars are at an end.”

“Are they?” Now a tinge of bitterness mixes into his smile. “I fear we are at the beginning of a much greater conflict. The future will bring a lot of hardship. And I am not referring to our own.”

I wonder how much he knows. “The way of the desert people is the best,” I give to consider. “Life happens right here and right now. The past has been carried away by the desert wind and the future is but a shadow, holding death.”

********************************************************************

Curtains of rain move slowly over the river valley of Cunabula about six hundred feet below me. The evergreen tree carpet produces shrouds of mist. Those rise up to immediately following the rain. And the sunbeams, undisturbed by the masses of water washing down to earth, paint a large shimmering rainbow over the whole spectacle.

For the past four weeks the royal bedroom has provided me with that amazing panorama every afternoon. And each passing day I have been glad that I do not need to go outside at all. Rain drops all over my skin are still a freaky experience for me. And one I can do without. Nobody will ever be able to rip the desert out of my soul. I like it plain, simple and dry.

The royal serpent-spawn and Aranea respect my dislike. During the daily rain shower they decide to go for indoor activities that will not drive me too crazy with them.

I smirk, taking a big sip from my café mug. Highland blend has turned into my favourite since my arrival, keeping me alert.

The twelve Tjiehenet princesses and princes are a lively bunch, knowing how to get themselves into trouble, but with me they try to be as good as gold. Well, they try anyway. As for Aranea, she is sort of adopted via the _dauphine_. Which is fine for me. That girl dotes on my Grianán.

Resting on my belly on a lama felt, I scan the bed chamber for possible threats. Not only Vicomte Ankoù has the unpleasant habit of appearing out of nowhere. Elfin assassins also do. The secret service agents of fovea centralis had briefed me on that. I only hope that my quick predator reflexes can be a blessing for the royal household.

A child’s laughter tickles through the humid afternoon air. Princess Adamah, the next dauphine straight in line after Arcānā, is roaming through her mother’s jewellery box. Her hands happily move through a cascade of diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and rubies. With her palms she scoops the precious gemstones up and then lets them rain down again. I see no harm in that, so I make no attempt to stop the brown haired girl with her olive taint. If her mother has any issues with this later on, I cannot care less. I am the royal nanny and not a guardian of the royal treasure.

I smile genuinely to myself.

Princess Adamah is head-strong, even towards me, but each time I give her a sharp order, she simply obeys. It would have been easy for me to stop her right now. From her siblings I knew that she is completely Force blind. I am grateful for this particular flaw of hers, that turns her into a simple mortal being. Therefore her regular fits lack the dangerous edge that those of her mother have. This girl simply is a drama queen, desperate for attention, but not able to force one to give it.

Princess Caelestris and Princess Aréte, her two blond twin sisters, are less complicated. Right now both of them are engaged in some weaving activities. They love hand craft and are very artistic in that particular field. I never have possessed any skills or enough patience for that so I feel a certain wondering awe for it. If the Force is with them after all, they never show me any indications for that. They seem to be ordinary children with no interest in war craft or mortal combat. In all of my caporeia training sessions they surprise me positively though. But in general they prefer to stay away from arms. Which is a pity really. They have the grace required for truly lethal dances.

Close to Prince Sereno, a true adventurer and trouble seeker, his twin brother Phosphoros dozes along in the royal bed nest, the nidulus. He cuddles with the second serpent-spawn. He is a rather silent boy, never giving me any trouble at all. I always have to check twice if he was still present. He blends in with his surroundings. Sometimes he cries in his sleep, missing Princess Cénere dearly. She had been the seventh child of the serpent-spawn, but has died shortly after birth.

My exploring eyes shift further on towards Prince Èleos, the Tjiehennet child that is the most talented in the Force. He is a very honest boy with eyes much older than his young life time actually allows. His ways are selfless and protective. He is also a believer in the good side of every person.

I sigh slightly, close to cursing the mild tempered and very polite boy with his big, questioning eyes.

At present Prince Èleos is about three feet away from me, propped down on some pillows. I know that he is fully aware of me watching him, but he keeps on reading in some rather old and shabby looking scrolls. Almost before I can wonder what they are about his emerald green eyes are fixed on me.

“ _Bardo Thodol_ , the Tibetan Book of the Dead.” His friendly smile, an inheritance from his human father, widens. “It is about the Profound Dharma of Self-liberation through the Intention of the Peaceful and Wrathful Ones.”

This probably has to do something with his mother, because Arcānā is a wrathful creature and regarded as a god like creature by her loyal subjects. No wonder that the boy seeks to liberate himself from that. There is too much of Senator Aletheia in him to agree with Arcānā’s ways.

His melodic laughter rolls through the bedroom and out into the jungle. He shakes his head. “No, I am reading this ancient text from Terra because I want to understand how I can lead a more balanced life with the Midi-chlorians that live in me. See, in here you can find meditation instructions, liturgies, prayers and lists of mantras.“

“So I am right, little mind reader.” I raise my chin proudly, meeting him with a cool gaze. “This is about your mother.”

Out of a sudden Prince Èleos looks so dreadfully young and vulnerable, like any common child that is concerned for a beloved but flawed parent. “There must be a way of living in peace and serenity, achieving harmony and knowledge. I strongly believe that anger, fear and pain lead to the dark Side of the force.”

The boy makes me wish with all my heart that he would not struggle with such concepts at his young life time. “Can’t you read something more simple?” I ask. “Something more fun perhaps, non? Your father has many adventure stories in his bungalow. He would not mind lending you one.”

“I fear for her.”

I am not sure whether Prince Èleos is speaking to me or simply to himself. He has that very often. One moment he is right there with you and suddenly his face goes blank. When he finally snaps back, he seems very troubled and anxious. Perhaps it is better that I do not enquire where his mind travelled just now. That I cannot grasp the knowledge he had been able to collect.

“Why?” I say very directly to him, looking for eye contact again, which he refuses. I feel like grabbing him hard by his shoulders and giving him a good shake back into real space.

Outside, the midday rain suddenly stops. And exactly one heart beat later eight naked feet are making their way down the stairs of the royal pyramid. Enthusiastic shouts and loud laughter roll along with the serpent-spawn. The royal guard, also known as Shesha, will be alarmed by that and go straight into a protective modus. There is no need to worry for me then.

Princess Adamah and Prince Eléos have remained behind. He keeps reading, while she sits in front of the jewellery box still, playing along with her mother’s treasures. A shout from her twin brother Sereno in their native language makes her jump to her feet and follow the others.

_“Venite a trovarci!”_

I roll my eyes about the entire set-up. So far experience has taught me that telepathic children are very sweet not to listen in into an audible conversation. But I do wonder at times if their minds do not stay tuned in to the thoughts of the persons talking with one another. They might be able to protect their privacy, but I am not sure that I am always able to.

“No, you cannot, Isa,” answers Prince Èleos.

Grumpily, I get up from my lama felt. My privacy is basically non-existent. This has to stop!

********************************************************************

“There is no point hiding anything here in this household from you guys,” I complain. “Not even from Adamah who is curious in her own ways. But do not think that she is totally demented when she does not share your touch of being special.”

Prince Èleos looks as guilty as he can. It is too much to bear.

“It’s okay.” I open my arms wide and he throws his scrolls away. While he clings himself to my chest, his hot tears make my long sleeved tunic wet. But I do not mind that. What really annoys me is that a six year old boy has to be busy with his mother’s nagging darkness.

“I...I..lo-lo-love...” Prince Èleos begins, but I shush him down tenderly.

“I know that you love her, mon chére. For this I need no mind reading ability. She is your mother.” I begin stroking his blond hair that is so smooth and soft against my fingertips. “But she makes her own choices. You cannot help that.”

“I... I th-think th-there sh-should b-be a-a co-code,” he hicks.

“A code?”

That question calms him somehow. His breath slows down and his shoulders have a more natural angle. “Why not? We should be using our Force skills to defend and protect the realm. In a peaceful way that is. Our family should really serve others instead of ruling over them. For the common good, you see? Life should be respected in any form. Instead of state affairs we should seek to improve ourselves through knowledge and training.”

He makes me very, very scared for him. I try to wrap my concerns into a loving joke, even though it is pointless with a strong telepath like him. “Do not let your mother hear all those bright and brilliant ideas of you, little knight of justice and truth.”

It is the knight bit that makes his eyes shine with a strange light. “A knight... like in the old legends that daddy told us about King Arthur and his knights.”

I keep my mouth shut, but unfortunately my thoughts flow out in every possible direction. A common Draconian man is not really allowed to learn the sword skills of a royal prince. The only existing knight order is of Elfin origin and therefore hostile.

Prince Èleos smiles anyway. “Imagine, a knight order that serves the light. We would invite women to join us, too. Our members could learn self-discipline, conquer arrogance and overconfidence. Perhaps even stubbornness and recklessness can be fought against. And aggression”

It sounds so wonderful, but like every dream, reality always has the nasty habit of crashing into it. Perhaps the universe needs somebody with a vision like this boy here.

With no warning I receive a massage from the future.

There is a huge plain and a heavy rain storm. Masked warriors are gathered on it, slain bodies lie between them. Their leader has a flame sword. Not only the red blade itself is alive, but also the handle in both ways.

A voice at the back of my mind whispers, “The master of the Knights of Ren.”

“I just think to work on from where Dealg was forced to stop,” he wonders softly.

Despite the lukewarm temperatures my blood freezes all over. “Do me one favour! Never ever speak with your mother about such matters! Do not mention that particular Elfin name.”

“But Dealg is no Elf. He is one of the first born Force benders of old and...”

“Never ever say that name aloud again. Do not even think it.” I catch him by the shoulders. “You can honour his teachings as much as you want, but do it in absolute secrecy. Until the day that you are grown and can perhaps survive your mother’s reaction.”

Tears shimmer in his eyes. “What is wrong about practice honesty and honour life itself as part of the Unifying Force?”

This child will be my ruin one fine day.

There it is again. The future, unrolling like a script role.

The Jedi Temple is a high, impressive building complex rooted in the earth of Coruscant and reaching out into its skies, that are densely populated by air vehicles.

Traditionally, the Temple Spire is the central and tallest tower of five. It holds the most sacred chamber in the complex: the ancient texts of the founding Jedi.

Èleos eyes ask more than his frightened face. “You are able to see the future.”

“I see possibilities. Nothing is written in stone yet.”

The unimaginable happens. He rises on his toes and when he takes notice that I am too big for him, he follows with his entire body. Hanging in the air right before me, he kisses me on my brow. “Just put a little faith in it.”

I blink at him, trying to cope. Then I say, “Now let us fetch Grianán from Clementia.” I smirk. “I do not want her to suffer an overdose of esoterism.”

“It is our religion.” He gives me a rueful smile.

“I liked the part with the sacrifices and battles much better. Those scented candles give me a headache. And that tea is dreadful.”

The boy laughs. “It is actually called Spiced Chai.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: The “Bardo Thodol”, the so-called Tibetan “Book of the Dead”, which is a text from a larger corpus of teachings revealed by Karma Lingpa (1326–1386)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	12. Chapter 12

The jungle is sticky with heat and moist air, colliding like the light side and the dark side of the Force. One fine sun day my Grianán will play in its thick undergrowth and green shades just like her siblings. There will be much to learn and to see for her.

A soft rain starts to conquer the landscape around Èleos and me. It tickles nicely on my skin. I like the way the world starts to smell, so fresh and intense. The desert is still at the back of my mind, but I must admit that I got quite attached to all the greenery around me.

After some time we enter Celestris’ small bungalow. It is nice and homely in there. Love and laughter seem to echo back from each corner.

The snake priestess stands in front of her fire place, cooking. _“La saluto, guerriera! Ti saluto con affetto, Principe Èleos!”_ she greets us in the language of the River Valley without turning around. _Greetings to you, She-Warrior! Greetings to you, Prince Éleos!_

While I try to determine the ingredients of the cookery pot, Èleos tiptoes towards a large hammock. I see an arm hanging out of it, covered with deep wrinkles. The smell of old age, not too unpleasant, surrounds the nidulus.

“My aunt Viola is not a very alert babysitter, but Mora and Grianán are not very demanding,” Clementia says to me. “They get on well and love to cuddle with her. It is also the only arrangement possible for me when I am occupied with household cores. Most of my family died in service for the royal family.”

It makes me sad hear that, but the snake priestess does not seem utterly occupied with that matter. She is a balanced and cheerful woman.

“Death and life belong together, Marquise.” Only now Clementia turns around, her lime green eyes strangely illuminated. “One cannot exist without the other. It keeps the universe in balance. It is left to each of us though to keep ourselves balanced. That is the blessing and the curse of a free will.”

Despite all the esoterica I like the fact that Clementia is an additional teacher to my Grianán. She can teach the girl to be self-contained, help her harness the ability to endure any kind of pain. Those hand gestures are the key to the Unifying Force.

Clenched to the chest of the sleeping crone are two babies. Both are fully awake. Grianán smiles and so does Mora, her play mate. As far as I know, she was born one sun week before the latest royal serpent-spawn.

Finding valuable assets for my special ward seems to be easy on this isle. I wonder what else life around here has to offer for her. I for my part cannot wait to introduce her to the ways of _caporeia_. She will be an upright she-warrior. There will be no need for her to fear my step-brother ever. She will not be his equal, she will be his doom.

“Can I take the girls out for a stroll?”

The sound of the child voice makes me smirk.

Aranea stands in front of one of the windows. Her face glows with excitement, but she tries not to bat her eyelashes, knowing such mind tricks do not work with me.

“I do not know about Mora, but if you change Grianán’s nappy and have Èleos accompany you, you can even take her out with your boat,” I say.

The orphan nods eagerly.

“Why not?” beams Èleos. Unlike the rest of the sextuplet he likes Aranea very much.

“Take Mora, too.” Clementia is smiley. “She also loves water above all.”

There is this special link with children of the River Valley and water. Like the Force it penetrates the Mother Jungle, is its visible vital line.

_"Aqua vitae,”_ translates the snake priestess into the language of the local Priesthood. _Water of life._

“But if the babies drown, you will be in trouble!” I let Aranea know sternly.

“If the dark side cannot kill us, then a river certainly will not.”Aranea touches her forehead. “Dark thoughts, dark deeds. They leak into us children as well, and can drive you mad. But there are choices. I make the right ones because of Grianán here. Since I know her, my life is different. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

I sigh deeply. The little bugger sneaked into my heart and I know for sure that she will always have a special place in there.

When Aranea passes by with Grianán, I blow a kiss on her tiny brow. The baby girl giggles back at me. For me there is no sweeter sound in the entire universe.

Fact is, at my arrival on this planet I fell head over heels for the little princess, lowering my inner defences. All of them. The more I must be on my guard. Too much attachment is bad for me.

“This is why I would ask my knights, male and female, not to form any attachments,” Èleos argues, holding little Mora in his arms.

“Before you force anybody into celibacy, change her nappy,” I remind him grumpily, not pleased that he is in my head again.

“The code will not be about celibacy. I just think any kind of attachment is bad for a servant of the Force.”

This I can deny to a certain extend. “Just because your mom gets crazy now and again, you cannot doom anybody to a life with no family, lovers or friends. Even though I do not love the Force overly much, I think it thrives from love. The trick is, to let go at a certain point. I am talking about obsession.”

Clementia nods at us. “Let me put it this way, young prince: Non-attachment gives us the much-needed space to contemplate what we want and what we hate so as to more fully reflect upon whether these things we love or loathe will truly bring us the pain or pleasure we believe they contain.” Her eyes are bright while she quotes that from ancient texts.

I pat on the boy’s bony shoulders. “Do your Force philosophy without me! I have my daily training with Misera soon. We meet back at the bungalow for dinner.”

********************************************************************

Misera is a smug, rather muscular half-blood of the Ophidiae. Once she has started as a decoy of the god queen. That was during her visit to Amnion more than twenty years ago. By now she has risen to a very important rank of the Draconian armed forces. She is as cunning as she is lethal. The right sparring partner for me.

 “You smell of baby powder,” she greets me, holding two sticks.

“And you of the underground laboratories,” I complement her back. “Have you been brewing some new chemical warfare agents?”

Misera frowns. “Nope, those are forbidden. What you smell is compound fertilizer. For the fields in the mountains. The army helps out for the harvest up there this year.”

For me it is a strange concept, that women are into agriculture and farming, but then again, I am not on my birth planet Sapuruh anymore. The Ophidiae intermingle a lot of aspects of daily life. For the better.

Misera throws one of the sticks towards me and I catch it elegantly, bowing towards her.

“ _Kendo_ practice today?” I ask.

“It is.”

“But with no protective armour?” I frown. “How come?”

“In real war times there is no such thing as protection. Accidents are prone to happen.” Misera gives me a flashy smile, exposing her teeth to the fullest. “In for some _Kakari-geiko_?”

“I would hate to disappoint you.”

The short, intense, attack practice, which we are about to engage in, teaches continuous alertness and readiness to attack, as well as building spirit and stamina. It is a cultural left over from Terra. It is also said that a proud nation of warriors developed it thousands of decades ago.

“Before we start,” my sparring partner grins, “tell me why I am going to hurt you badly, kitty cat.”

I intensify my grip on my _shinai_ , that is made out of bamboo.

_“To mould the mind and body._  
_To cultivate a vigorous spirit,_  
_And through correct and rigid training,_  
_To strive for improvement in the art of Kendo._  
_To hold in esteem human courtesy and honour._  
_To associate with others with sincerity._  
_And to forever pursue the cultivation of oneself.”_

Misera looks proud. “Good quotation until now. May I hear the rest before I ram you into the ground?”

I chuckle at her threat, but oblige her anyway.

_“Thus will one be able:_  
_To love one’s country and society;_  
_To contribute to the development of culture;_  
_And to promote peace and prosperity among all...”_

She attacks before I finish the sentence, but I am well prepared and can fend her off.

Far from dangerous, a _shinai_ is used as a practice sword in order to simulate the weight of a _katana_ or a _bokken_. All without injuring the user or the target. But wood on wood makes a lot of noise.

Soon we have many spectators watching our friendly training practise. Even some of my wards are among them – Sereno, Adamah and Phosphoros. But Misera and I focus anyway. Despite our banter earlier on, we do not want to hurt each other badly.

********************************************************************

The gong in front of the senator’s bungalow tells Misera and me that dinner is ready. The day has gone by so quickly. Dusk is on its way, activating the nocturnal wild life.

My sparring partner and I bow politely to one another. When I want to give my shinai back to her, she says, “Keep it for now! You might need it tonight!”

“What for?” I ask bewildered, knowing that the food Narthex prepares never attacked me before. “Come on everybody!” I address the future dauphine and her age-matched brothers, but they remain frozen to the spot. “If you are not hungry, I am. I could eat an entire bantha.”

“You could go and bring us some food,” Sereno, a feisty blond suggests. “We stay here.”

“Right,” I conclude. “I’ll march down to your father’s bungalow and simply come back up them with meals for three lazy children.”

“Do not forget yourself!” Adamah reminds me, beaming from one ear to the other.

My lips turn thin. “Something is wrong here. I do not need to be a telepath to sense that. I want to be told what’s up, for I am not in the mood for guessing games.”

A big wall of silence, until Phosphoros finally delivers the answer. “We do not enjoy our uncle’s company. He arrived while you were training.”

Now I have the explanation that I need. I decide to share something with the royal bunch. “I am not happy about my step-brother, Vicomte Ankoù, either. Not any more. But the rights of a guest are holy. In a desert tent as much as here in on the Holy Isle. So we all go down to dinner and put on a good show.” My smile is grim, my demeanour even more. “Embarrass this uncle of yours with your politeness, your kindness!”

“But he is scary!” Sereno pipes up.

“Do not fear him! Do not let him have this power over you.” My gaze locks with Adamah’s. “Do not have anybody let have power over you, because you fear them.”

********************************************************************

Aréte pops up next to us, when we walk towards the bungalow. She is covered in camouflage and leaves all over. “Do you think Granny will dare to bring the blasphemous techno junk with her?”

“No,” I assure the six year old princess grimly. “The old woman knows that your mother would behead her personally if she did.”

“Ah come on, nanny, mammy is no monster. She would not harm a family member in any way.”

Actually, I was not so sure about that fact, especially when Arcānā gives her daughter an intense look at your arrival. I started to measure the distance between me and the children, but then a hearty laughter filled the air.

“I will not harm her as long as she leaves her little helpers at home and out of my jungle.”

The _dauphine_ stands on the veranda, obviously waiting for us. I can spot no dinner table so I figure that we all will eat inside for some daft reason. Which is a pity. I got quite used to family dinners outside.

Adamah stumbles out of a bush next to us, dragging her sister Caelestris with her. “You should not have allowed the Aletheia Clan to set a foot on this holy island. I do not want them here at all.”

Arcānā gives her official heir a considerate look. “Your father is right. What ever bad start your grandmother and I had, she has a right to see her grandchildren. I should not be too proud and unforgiving to deny her that.”

“I have no grandmother at all,” Adamah insists. “Dad’s mom calls us names and your mother is nothing more than a pathetic zombie. She cannot walk, she cannot talk. She is completely useless for this family and the realm.”

I hit my forehead with my flat hand. This girl is a walking disaster! She will not survive until her coronation. I am sure of it.

_“Vieni con me, chiocciola! Facciamo due chiacchiere.”_ Arcānā gives the girl a creepy smile. _Come here, little one! Let´s talk!_

Switching to another language is not a good sign at all. What is even worse is that a certain pair of emerald green eyes had turned into an ugly yellow. Red blood vessels are also to be seen.

_“No! Non voglio, mamma!”_ With a big delay it seems to dawn on Adamah that her words were not wisely chosen at all. _No! I do not want to, mammy!_

_“Sì, gentile signorina! Atvanti!”_ Arcānā’s voice is a mere whisper. It would have been better if she would have started yelling again. _Be polite, little lady! Come on!_

_“In nessun casso!”_ Despite her olive taint Adamah does manage to look pale. _No way!_

_“Sono veramente spiacente. Mettila come vuoi: sono piú forte di te.”_ The _dauphine_ is unyielding. _I am truly sorry. But think about it: I am stronger than you are._

Before I can grab the girl by the shoulders, she is flying through the air directly into her mother’s open right hand.

“Let her down at once, Arcānā, or I swear your husband will be a single father!” I am at the bring of madness, my blood making a lot of noise in my skull.

A ring of Shesha is suddenly around me, pointing their spears towards my throat. I recognize some of them as spectators during my sparring.

“Hey, she is the threat here, girls, not me!” I roar. “Hey, Queenie, drop it! It is your own daughter you try to choke.”

One of the spears slightly drills one inch too far into my skin, but I do not care. My adrenaline makes me sort of careless.

“Put a stop to it!” I demand. “Or do you want to kill your own flesh and blood? Hello? Anybody in your Midi-chlorian invested body? In the name of the Force take a break. Start thinking!”

Arcānā blinks, stares at me and suddenly puts her stunned child gently down. “Ut quaeque res est turpissima, sic maxime est vindicanda.”

The Shesha nods in unison, while I have no clue what was going on. I just know that one sentence in the old language of the priesthood has been spoken. My Ratoriam is a disaster.

Adamah lies on the floor, crying soundlessly and hiding her throat protectively behind twitching hands.

“I will tell you about your punishment in the common language. And I will not repeat myself.” Arcānā's attitude is like ice. “From this day on you alone will be responsible for your grandmother’s care. Some of the priestesses will give you an introduction to your new duties. Until her dying day you will stay at her side.”

Narthex appears on the veranda. “Dinner is served!” he announces. “If you all would care to follow me.”

********************************************************************

It is Agathos who comes to greet us in his finest garments at the front door. He gives Arcānā a brief kiss on the cheek that does not hide his nervousness in the least. There is sweat all over his brow. “There you are, my darling. We were slightly concerned that it took so long for you all to arrive.”

I know he refers to his mother. Usually he is not concerned.

“Sorry, dad!” six voices blare in unison. “We had to wait for some Shesha to take over the babies before Isa would join us.”

Narthex raises an eye brow to this obvious lie.

An honest smile replaces the nervous one that Agathos has worn before. “Marquise, what a pleasure that you can join us tonight!”

From my point of view he might as well have begged me to stay by falling on his knees. He is desperate.

“Are they there yet?” a creaky voice wants to know. “The children?”

Mistress Aletheia appears in the hall way, leaning on to a walking stick. The special and very accurate sense of smell, that my feline race possess, confirm only what my cat eyes saw. This elderly woman is definitely of human origin.

“No!” insists Phosphorus with a low voice, “She smells fishy.”

I give the young prince a hard poke with my elbow. “First, stay out of my head! And most of all: some things better remain unspoken.”

He bites his lip, sulking.

Luckily, Mistress Aletheia has not heard him. She is too busy having a quarrel with her daughter-in-law. “Perhaps it takes time to take care of eleven children, my dear Arcānā, but you could have sent at least a servant, letting us know of their delay.”

“You are very welcome to come fetch them in person next time, my dear Téchne.”

“Be glad that you have young and healthy legs still.”

When the elderly woman moves forward on her walking stick, my trained ears hear what normal ears cannot guess at. There is a cracking noise with every step she takes. Her hips are not her own. The rumours of Amnion are true. They replace organs and limbs on an artificial basis, when they need to.

Mistress Aletheia would not survive a single day in the dune sea. With legs like these she cannot climb a dune or descend it.

One of my aunts had walked out of our camp because she did not wish to be a burden to us. I had been two moon years old, when I watched her leave forever. There had been no tears, no fuzz. It had been a mere necessity and the desert had been gracious. She had been found dead at dawn, only half a mile away from the camp.

Mistress Aletheia would not do us that favour though. The old girl will fight. Of that I am sure. And she will fight ugly, just to remind us that she is still alive and among us.

********************************************************************

While Agathos nervously asks everybody to sit down, I took a careful measure of the enemy. To definitively tell her years is difficult. Téchne Aletheia can be anything between sixty and eighty sun years. Her brown hair, rolled into a strict top-knot, is turning into silver here and there. The clothing she wears is very old fashioned, too. It is a tunic for women, consisting of a long sleeved undergarment and a short sleeved main dress. Both are in a soft lilac tone. I wonder if she is also a sort of senator by her own rights.

“She is in mourning for Grandfather,” Èleos tells me in a whispering tone. He is the only royal child that was at the dinner table on time. “And before you wonder about it, the fish pendent is a sign that she worships Parhelion.”

Because Arcānā and Téchne still have some heated discussion going on, I am able to fully focus on the smiley boy. “Parhelion, the one and only god? The creator?”  
Èleos nods happily.

“I guess everybody has the right to believe in something.” I shrug, thinking of my step-brother. “Who am I to judge? I have turned away from Sodalith and Calme in shame.”

“They never turned on you,” he replies sadly.

“Do me a favour, Èleos!”

“Yes?”

“Never discuss the religion of Sapuhru with me again!”

I ignore his hurt look and tune myself into the ongoing battle of words.

“... Aconite did not get your attention the entire day.”

“He is not reacting well to my milk. Therefore he has his own fostress. On Amnion. Agathos took care of that about three months ago already. How kind of you to enquire about him.”

Mistress Aletheia pales, which makes it clear to me she had not known about the entire affair. “Aconite should have been put straight into an incubator. Then the accident with the snake would not have happened at all. The poor boy, poisoned so early in his life. How could you give birth in such a filthy, dangerous place, Arcānā?”

My eyes turn into small slits. There is no way that one of the holy snakes in the birth cave would ever bite one of the Ophidiae. Especially not one of royal blood. If the prince had been bitten down there, there was only one creature in the entire universe that would have dared.

I rise more abruptly than I want to. All eyes rest on me with surprise and curiosity. “Excuse me, Grianán needs a new nappy.”

“Why do you have a servant eating with us?” Mistress Aletheia demands to know from both her son and her daughter-in-law.

Embarrassed, Agathos answers, “Marquise Isabeau Riwalan is no servant at all. She is the heartbeat of our household as much as Narthex is the heart.”

This makes me smile, while I leave the dinner party behind me and a sulking Mistress Aletheia.

“We have a noble woman at our dinner table and you did not introduce...”

I cannot care less what the old woman says next. Instead, I begin to focus my ears on the humming sound of technical equipment. Another sound was there, weak, but constant. I also smell somebody that I had not seen attending at the table tonight.

“Narthex, it is me, Isabeau. Can I enter your little kingdom?”

“We are in Agathos’ bedchamber,” comes the answer from the rear end of the property.

We. So he was with Grianán. It was her little heart beat that called out to me like a drum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “The Concept and Purpose of Kendo” by the All Japan Federation (AJKF) in 1975  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	13. Chapter 13

“To judge my daughter and her motives is like dancing on the edge of madness,” Narthex greets me when I enter the chamber. He is about to use the night cabinet as a baby change unit. “She thinks in absolutes. And the dark side clouds her mind.”

I muster Grianán, who lies on her father’s bed, closely. Her boat tour had brought her some healthy taint. Normally, her skin is so awfully pale.

Suddenly, an unknown male voice asks me very, very coldly, “Will you join us outside, milady? They are all eager for your return. Especially my mother.”

I turn around to face a human man that slightly resembles Agathos.

“Senator Kairos Aletheia, I presume.” I give him a stiff, yet formal bow. Lidérc only shake hands with intimate friends or to seal a business deal. Besides, I have no wish to ever have skin contact with that person.

“And you are the famous Marquise Riwalan, step-daughter of Comte Ankoù. The girl I’ve heard so much about.”

Strangely stimulated by his words my brain reacts with another unforeseen future trip.

**_I am inside a forest. Large trees, clad in moss, are all around me. A heavy laser gun is in my hand. I am not on my own. There is a dark knight. I have seen him some place before. Perhaps in one of my nightmares. He stands too close to me, his body language reminding me so much of Luçien._ **

Blinking hard several times, I propel my conscious mind back into the past.

It is a bad omen to be thinking of Vicomte Ankoù twice a day.

I give the extended arm in front of me an uncertain look. Is Kairos Aletheia really expecting me to take it and walk outside with him? He seems to know little of my people and their traditions.

Narthex’ subtle breathing tells me that he is doing his best to swallow his upcoming sigh as best and as graceful as he can.

“My dear senator”, I state with my best fake smile, “your niece Grianán still needs a nappy change.”

“Then let the valet do it. This is what he is there for, the old fool.”

I shake my head. “I had rather do it myself and let honoured Narthex attend to his more urgent duties. For I am the royal nanny.”

Anger gleams on the cheeks of the senator. “Milady, I insist,” he almost shrieks.

“Leave the princess here with me.” Narthex clips out. “You can trust me with her life.”

“I am the royal nanny,” I repeat and pick Grianán up, shielding her from her own uncle who glares at her disapprovingly.

“No, milady.” Narthex gives me a smile that warms my heart. “Tonight you are an honoured guest as well.”

Defeated, I let go of my protégé. I miss her sweet weight the very instant she leaves my arms. “Only because you asked nicely, dear Narthex. But I will return.”

“Milady.” The bow that Narthex grants me is reserved for a queen or empress.

I ignore the senator and his inviting arm when I step outside the bed chamber. Narthex is the real royalty with his heart of gold.

*******************************************************************

It is such a lovely dinner: _tzatziki_ , baked fish from the local river and steamed vegetables. I am also very proud of the royal snake-bred, who show but their best table manners ever. Yet, Arcānā and her brother-in-law went on making a fuzz about everything.

“Is the food really clean? Is it sterile?” Senator Kairos Aletheia whispers concerned towards his older brother Agathos.

“Sterile?” A dirty smile forms on the perfect lips of the dauphine. “Would you like to have some distilled water, dear brother-in-law? I can arrange that for you easily.”

I concentrate on eating again and simply enjoying the food on my plate, until Mistress Aletheia forces a conversation on me. “Marquise, will you not get sick after a meal like this?” she creaks.

That remark makes me frown. “In how far?”

“My cats never eat cooked fish. It makes them very ill. Yet, I see you eat and eat. I wonder how you can take it at all.”

There are indeed some things at this table that make me rather ill: ignorance and strong displays of people having issues. I give the elderly woman a very polite answer, that follows up another daft question of hers regarding my feline nature.

The evening seems to go on forever and my countenance is constantly challenged. Even after the children are brought to bed by Arcānā herself.

********************************************************************

During the next few sun weeks, the situation between the dauphine and me turns ever more tense. Neither of us wants to give in. Sharp words and insults fly through the air like daggers each time our visitors from Amnion are nowhere to be seen. Luckily, the royal Shesha guard keeps this development at bay and the serpent-spawn does so as well.

At the fires of a nomad desert camp you learn how much power a single word can have. Storytellers have the status of a magician in the dune sea. My mother Chaleur had wisely respected her uncle Sage for his powers. When the men of the House Ankoù had attacked, he had been the first to die. A spear had pierced his throat. No curse had been able to leave his lips for our protection.

Now I curse on a daily basis. Arcānā tickles the lowest instincts out of me. There is no way that I will accept her harsh punishment for Adamah. I want to deal with the little loud-mouth my own way. A way that will not leave her soul crippled forever.

One morning, I follow Arcānā straight into the river, where she is about to do her morning ritual. The water does not bother me, only the thought that Adamah is practically buried alive.

The _dauphine_ tries to ignore me with a very regal face, but after a while my verbal attacks get answered with equally harsh words and her mask of tranquillity breaks into a thousand pieces.

I smile despite all the water around me and the slimy things that it contains: old leaves, exotic fish and mud. “I love Adamah as much as my own, I cannot simply let go of the matter. I cannot and will not.”

The _dauphine_ looks at me for a very long time, wordless and wide eyed. Even though I do not feel her fumbling around in my thoughts and looking through all the layers, I am the subject of her very thorough research.

The jungle around us seems to listen breathlessly.

I feel the Shesha close to us, at least twelve of them, with their weapons ready for attack.

When Arcānā finally gets out of the water I follow her wordlessly. Our destination was the secret city under the Holy Isle. I dread that place. I have never been a very big supporter of technical things and down here I can sense the birth of something new. The machines are breathing as much as the jungle plants. Their wires and other components are turning into something organic. It is a slow process and might take another millennium to finish, but I knew it will happen. The teachings of the old world are blossoming in the new one, forming an unexpected level of consciousness.

Arcānā gives me an amused look. “The will to survive always forms the strangest alliances.”

“I do not believe in any form of alliances,” I snort. “Too many interests, too many secrets, too many crowded spaces. Look at your own body, queenie. Are you yourself or simply the sum of your Midi-chlorians? I know at least what I am: _je suis fille de grands chemins_.”

“A daughter of the crossroads.” Her eyes turn into emerald slits, while she translates my title into pure Basic. “At times you do believe too much in yourself.”

“In the dune sea one fully needs to rely on oneself in order to survive.”

Together we step through the door that leads into the death chamber of the god queen.

One look at a beady eyed Adamah is enough to set me in motion. My movements are quicker than her mother has accounted for.

“You are mad,” Arcānā hisses at me, staring at my twin daggers. One is pressed against the soft throat of the child and the other one is intimately close to Tamisra’s heart. Force powers or not. One of my weapons will draw blood. And my opponent knows.

“Mad?” I claim. “Then we have at least something in common, you and I.”

I am more than glad that Adamah is not screaming or struggling at all. She just sits in front of me with a pale complexion and empty eyes. What pains me even more is that my attack on her made no difference to her at all. The girl is as numb and lifeless as her grandmother.

“You really want me to choose?” Arcānā asks, trying hard to keep her outrage at a low level. I can spot the dark yellow fire in her eyes.

I give her my brightest smile. “Actually, you chose very recently, Your Highness. But it was a very poor choice. I simply wanted to remind you of that. Your daughter’s life is as much in your hands as that of your mother. But there is one great difference between those two. One has a long life behind her, prolonged in unnatural ways. The other one still has a life, when you let her be.”

Until now I have held the eye contact with the dauphine. Now she is turning away from me in shame, lowering her eyelids. I let my daggers sink, putting them back into their hiding places.

Then I turn to Adamah and kiss her on her brow. Her skin is very cold. “I love you, little fuzz ball,” I whisper.

Outside I can hear the outraged Shesha gather. They want to get me for attempted double murder. I will die today if it is up to them. But I made a point at least and perhaps even a difference.

“I am sorry that I had to do this to you, child. I bet your mother is also sorry for her unbelievable stupid punishment. And I know how sorry you are for your harsh words against a woman that you never really came to know.”

I get up, very, very slowly.

When I start walking out of the room, Adamah basically jumps back into life. Suddenly, she has a personality and a voice again. “Do not leave, Isa!”

Arcānā and I look at her in utter surprise.

“I do everything that mom wants, but please do stay with me. I cannot bear grandma’s silence. It is creepy. You know, she is dead and nobody seems willing to notice. Not even the priestesses. See, I talked to her. She did not answer me. I sang, I screamed, I begged, but there is nothing inside her.”

I give the girl a sad smile. “Where I come from, a body like this is left to the mercy of the desert.”

“Mercy.” Adamah tries that strange, new word with her own lips.

“Yes, mercy. When there is no hope left, it is better to let go. Only the strong ones survive out in the dune sea,” I say sincerely, even though I hear Arcānā snort in the background. “Everything else is against The Way, you know.”

“The Way?” Adamah moves away from the bed.

“The Way is about the rules and the code of honour of a tribe. It helps you to find your place in the universe. It protects and gives your life a meaning.”

While I tell this to the future _dauphine_ , the high priestess enters. She is shaking with rage and anxiety, but Arcānā grabs her arm. “Hush, a lesson is learned here.”

“So letting grandmother live is without honour.”

“Yes,” I answer.

“And her existence has no use for the tribe?” Adamah mutters uncertainly.

While I nod, a pair of six-fingered hands takes hold of one of my daggers. It all happens so quickly that none of us can stop Adamah stabbing her own grandmother. While the royal artery sprays bright blood into each possible direction, the girl says solemnly, “I had mercy upon you, grandma.”

********************************************************************

Dirty, little fibs are told, but the serpent-spawn knows. And so do most inhabitants on the Holy Island. I bet that the entire nation is fully aware of what their new dauphine had done.

For some reason I stayed unharmed and in one piece.

On the day after Tamisra’s funeral service in the royal crypts, I visit the captain of the royal guard. “I murdered your queen. Arrest me!”

The large Ophidiae looks at me with unblinking reptile eyes.

“The queen issss dead, long live the queen.”

“I demand to get my punishment,” I repeat.

“Being on thissss planet and living among ussss is already a great punisssshment. Now begone!”

She cannot march away because I drill my fangs into her arms. “Do not turn your back on me, wench!”

Instead of attacking me back, she stares straight into my eyes. “Lissssten! You may be involved into the queen mother’ssss death, but you alsssso helped giving birth to a new one.” Very intimately she presses her brow against mine. “For that all of ussss will remain grateful, no matter how you crazzzzy behave.”

With that remark the Ophidiae woman shakes me off like an annoying mosquito.

I gaze after her in blind rage, my fangs hanging out of my open mouth. There is no way to understand this nation. They are either too hard or too soft.

And the worst of all, they let their emotions reign over them all the time.

I wonder if this affects their usage of the Force.

On my way back from the army barracks I find Éleos sitting on a stone in the sun. His eyes are closed and his legs are strangely entangled into one another. I would not even have managed to get my legs into that position in the first place. His palms, turned upwards, rest on his kneecaps. Light and peace are radiating around him and I feel already better by just watching him.

“What are you up to?” I ask after a good while.

“Meditation,” comes the soft answer from far, far away.

“Ah, this is what it is supposed to be. And have you found your inner peace yet?”

At this, he opens his eyes.

“I am still searching, but close to my family this is always very difficult to fully relax and give in to the Unifying Force that surrounds me.”

“It surrounds you?” I carefully look around, but I can see no evil clouds of Midi-chlorians darkening the sun and being eager to get to me as well.

Éleos gives me his sweetest, most genuine smile. “The Forceis also inside me. You are part of it, too, Isa.”

_“Sacré bleu!”_ I curse under my breath. 

The young prince does not look appalled at all. “Me, you, those trees, the earth you stand on and even the rock I sit on are connected through the Force. There is no shame about that, norfear.”

“Are there places where the Force does not exist?”

“I hope not. That would be terrible. Imagine, not being a part of anything. Not being able to reach out.”

“Your twin Adamah can live without the Force, can’t she?” I argue. “Imagine, she would have felt your grandmother the same way as you could.”

An ugly shadow creeps into his delightful features. “There was nothing she could have felt, for there was nothing there. The dark side left Gran as barren as.... as a... a landscape that was overflown by a lava river. But such a landscape finds healing after a while. Gran was beyond healing. You helped her to die. Thank you! Without you my mother never would have been able to let go.”

Breathing heavily, I press him against me, stroking his soft hair over and over again.

********************************************************************

One sun week later, Arcānā gets crowned and Senator Kairos Aletheia leaves for his home planet of Amnion again. But his mother stays behind.

In order to get rid of her mother-in-law, the new god queen has a vicious plan. I wish she would have consulted with me beforehand, but she chooses not to. Instead she talks everything through with her husband and the children, who are easily blinded.

Within a couple of sun hours the entire trip is organized and all the luggage is stored in the private space shuttle of Agathos.

Soon I am faced with the Vallum Ventii, a place colder than a desert night. The mountain chain is covered in a white burial shroud called ´snow´. I cannot understand the children’s enthusiasm for it. To stand in a landscape that is covered all over with it is a nightmare. It makes the world smell different. And, even worse, it changes my way of hearing things. I feel lost and uprooted, even though my ancestors have fought their greatest battles in this inhospitable region of the planet.

A single snow flake lands boldly on my nose. It makes me sneeze violently.

If our entire stay at Dún Barr, a huge stone stronghold, is that way, I will return to the jungle on my own.

I miss the rain – all those showers and the high humidity that makes my clothing stick to me at any time.

Darkly, I gaze up towards the castle. Since three hundred sun years it is the actual winter seat of the god queens. Not many of Arcānā’s ancestors have made use of the property though. I can clearly see why. Snakes are animals that go into hibernation in some warm and cosy place underground.

“Yes, they do, but you are a Lidérc, Isa,” announces Phosphorous next to me, building a snow man. “Therefore snow should be no problem to you.”

Éleos, who is assisting his twin brother, points out, “But Isa is not covered in fur all over her body. Nor has she any fluffy ears and a long, elegant tail. She is not of true blood. She...”

My hastily made snow balls hit him very hard in his face. When Phosphorous laughs out loud he gets another one in his open mouth. I cannot help to look gleeful, while I clean my mittens from snow crystals. “Hallo there, Force users and mind readers. Time is up! You are to return to the castle immediately. And I want you to write me an essay. The subject: ´Why not to spy on people’s mind and why not to talk about them like they are not present´. Three hundred words each. In Basic. Bugger off! I will see you two clowns for dinner. With the essay.”

The two princes look hurt and turn towards their father Agathos. “You heard Her Ladyship, lads. Let’s go back!” He winks at me. “I am getting hungry anyway.”

“We are also coming!” shout Caelestris and Sereno together. They both grab their sledges and start to run up the mountain road as fast as the deep snow allows them to. Adamah, the dauphine, joins them with her ski.

“What about you, Aréte?” I yell down hill to the last remaining royal child.

The girl looks up, grinning widely under her elegant hood rimmed with wolf fur. “Can you stay with me just a bit longer?” she calls back. “Please? I promise to help you wax your own ski tomorrow and the day after!”

I sigh.

This offer is hard to turn down. I am very bad with taking care of my own ski. To wax those wooden items was a sticky problem for me. Somehow I manage to choose the wrong wax all the time. Aréte is brilliant with it. I wonder if the Force makes her sensitive to the local weather conditions. Apart from that she is just graceful on her ski, more than any of her six siblings.

“Is it okay for you to walk back with the kiddos on your own, milord?”

He smiles at me under his partly frozen beard. “Don’t you think it is time to call me Agathos, my dear?”

I am totally taken aback by this sudden offer, but he is right.

We have known each other for quite a while now. And we are both off-word strangers whom fate itself has brought to Draconis.

“Agathos.” Shyly, I give the senator my gloved hand.

“My dear Isabeau.”

For me a handshake like this is something special. It contains and seals the promise of a business deal. And the two of us indeed have made some sort of deal on behalf of the royal serpent-spawn. We protect them from any harm, including their own mother.

“Now we are in this together officially,” I say softly, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Yes, we are,” he answered with an equally low voice.

“May I ask you something, Agathos?”

A hint of sadness springs up in his face. “It is about Aconite, is it not?”

I nod.

“As a member of a telepathic household, you learn to read minds, too.” Agathos states dryly. “Well, Aconite is doing just fine. Aurora treads him like her own blood.”

“You must be grateful to your niece,” I probe, hoping for the right answer this time.

“Oh, she is not my niece. Narthex is her uncle.”

I detect a sense of unease in him now, but I push the issue further on. “What is the name of your relative that my step-brother has to protect?”

“I cannot tell you,” he says with open regret.

“Because you do not trust me?” I raise my voice on purpose.

“The children cannot be trusted with such a burden yet. And I am afraid my wife will find out.”

“Today I made clear that your off-spring better stays out of my head, didn’t I?” I put my hands on my hips, crossed beyond all means. With a side glance I check that the royal bunch is really walking up to the castle again. “They will not squeeze it out of me. I promise.”

“This is too important a matter!”

I turn away from him in scorn. “Than you are not any better than Luçien.” His name crosses my lips with frightening ease. “He always shut me out, too.”

Those harsh words help my mission. “You play unfair, Isabeau. This is emotional blackmail.”

“I know,” I agree, still not turning around.

I hear him sigh deeply and then a soft plopping sound follows. My concern for him wins over my anger.

Deflated, Agathos sits in the snow. I decide to sit down next to him.

“You meet my niece in person.” He reaches out for one of my hands and I give him both. “Her name is Sionnach O’Conghaile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens”, a movie by J.J. Abrams & the Walt Disney Company (2015)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	14. Chapter 14

Sionnach O’Conghaile. The tramp that my step-brother fell in love with, when he rescued her from the streets. “How can an Elfin girl be related to you?” I wonder.

“Via marriage.” His smile is sad and reminds me so much of Éleos when he is upset. “Sionnach is related to Arcānā in a way you cannot possibly imagine.”

“Try me on this one!” I mumble, even though unease fills me like sand.

“The underground laboratories breed a lot of things, especially when a Tjiehennet princess makes them. And not any princess, but the heir to the snake throne and the official _mambo asogwe_.”

Those words rise an unspeakable terror deep within me. “You mean that your wife is the anointed priestess of the Dead?”

“More to the Undead of Cunabula.”

Suddenly, I am not so keen on hearing him out, but he continues speaking.

“When her older sister Adamah lay dead before her, Arcānā went almost mad with sorrow. It took me many years to find out what has happened in the aftermath.”  
I try to blend any other sensations out that hinder me to concentrate on his voice.

“A baby girl was brought to live in unnatural ways. Dead cells from the still-born child of Adamah and Ruadhan had been re-animated by dark Force magic.”  
It is not the winter’s cold that makes me shiver. “Sionnach is a golem,” I realise aloud.

“No, technically she is but a clone,” he corrects me. “Golems are the stuff of legends.”

“You know about Luçien’s affliction with dark things and the Holy Isle,” I say, trying to keep my shivering out of my voice. This is now the second time I call him by his given name and not his title. It feels like summoning him. And thinking of it, he has huge issues with clones as well.

There it is again, the scary grimness and determination I noticed in Agathos before. To his enemies he can be a terrible foe. “This is why I forbid your step-brother to ever lay his hands on Sionnach.” Frown wrinkles mar his normally friendly face. “And I did so in the presence of witnesses. You were one of them. Unknowing, but a valuable witness. One he never would kill off anyway.”

Now I realize the full scope of events that has led me to live at the royal court of Cunabula. I am bound to the Tjiehennet family forever more. But I am not overly concerned yet. I worry about someone else. “Has Luçien fallen in love with your niece yet?”

My question makes Agathos chuckle all of a sudden. The frown wrinkles disappear immediately. “He will not get intimate with her. I promise you that.”

“Because he is not a real man?” I suggest, even though my glimpses of the future showed me different.

Agathos shakes his head. “Oh, he is man enough, but women usually do not interest him. His true mistress is religion.”

“Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“Luçien loves the holy scriptures of your people above everything else. Even if I would prove to him that those are just the remains of an ancient prayer book from Terra. A half decayed mess of pages that Gorge found in by chance...”

It is blasphemy to talk about the religious founder of the Lidérc this way, but I detect the honest truth behind Agathos’ words. Suddenly, it makes me sad that my step-brother is clinging on to lies.

He knows exactly from my stricken face what bothers me. “Perhaps the scriptures were something your people something that your people desperately needed when their involuntary exodus began,” he suggests. “But at present they hinder your nation to thrive and change.”

My eyes scan for Aréte, who is boldly moving away from us towards the surrounding needle forest. “Life on Sapuhru is about survival indeed,” I answer, pushing my worries away. “Here on Draconis it is, too. Though your kiddos give a new level of challenge every day.”

With these words I try to turn around as elegantly as I can, but my ski stop me. I stumble and fall over. Agathos helps me up.

“I was very good on a water ski in my youth,” he says.

“Water ski?” I clean myself from the snow as much as possible. “I hardly can master those beastly things.”

“Aréte hates writing very much. You could suggest to her that she join her brothers in detention,” Agathos proposes, while checking where the rest of the children are by now.

I follow his gaze.

The royal off-spring is about two hundred feet away from us, waving happily. I can tell that they were too polite to listen into our conversation. Otherwise they would be as shaken as I am.

I snarl, looking towards the forest. “Once I’ve caught the little cow... excuse me, the little lady, I will indeed make her write... a lot.”

****************************************************************

I do some intense cursing in my mother tongue while I follow Aréte deeper into the forest of large, ancient pine trees.

My eyes hurt from the white carpet that covers everything under it. Snow makes everything equal.

There are patches of it all over my winter clothing. I have fallen countless times today, mostly during the hunt on my protégé.

Aréte will bleed for my inconveniences dearly.

Desert nights are cold in a dry way. The chill that the Vallum Ventii gives to a person seeps deep into the bones. I feel wet and utterly uncomfortable. No wonder that the name of the mountain chain meant _´Wall of the Winds´_ in plain Basic.

The constant blowing Northern wind makes things worse for me. Now I hate skiing more than ever. It is no innocent winter sport, as it was introduced to me this morning. It is but cold-blooded murder.

The very moment that thought has crossed my mind, the girl turns around. I dislike to see amusement in her light green eyes. “Isa, I do not understand why you are so mad with me,” she dares to state.

“Let me enlighten you!” I roar, throwing up my arms with the skiing sticks attached to them. “This sucks!”

“For a beginner you did a very good job. You did not break anything, nor did you twist an ankle.”

“Not yet.”

“But you did not.”

“I still might.” While I tell her this, I imagine what I will do to her when we were back inside her mother’s castle. That gives me a grim pleasure. She will write me essays until her twelve fingers are covered in blisters and her small hands will fall of.

Aréte grants me her careless laugh again. “Stop being a spoilsport, Isa! Look around you! We did two miles together.”

I am frozen with anger and sheer surprise. “Two miles?” I gurgle.

Aréte nods eagerly, delight painting her cheeks rosy and fresh. “I knew we could do it. I can’t wait to tell the others.”

Then it dawns on me, the entire plot. They are indeed Arcānā’s children. So much malice rests in their hearts. “You set me up! All of you!”

“No, we believed in your ability to learn this sport and have even more fun with us. Èleos always says: Do it, or don’t do it. There is no trying.”

“You are so wrong, Missy.”

The six sun year old shakes her head lightly. “In times of distress you always overcome yourself, Isa. You are so brilliant.”

I do not know what to answer. Aréte leaves me completely speechless.

All royal serpent-spawn have this dreadful ability from time to time. They were very far away from being ordinary children. It has nothing to do with being strong in the Force. Their minds burn with such a brightness that one seldom caught in grown-up beings. And one never knows for sure what thoughts might come up next. It was always a big surprise.

****************************************************************

  
We stand still for a while. In the midst of the forest. The snow comes down on us with soft flakes, formed like little feathers. Apart from the wind in the evergreen needle trees there is no other sound.

At the edge of my mind the future peaks around the corner.

“Not now!” I complain, hiding my face behind my hands.

**_I am shown another winter forest, more menacing. A girl is there, not really dressed up for the extreme temperatures. But the heat of the battle warms her body and soul. The dark knight is with her. The one obsessed so badly with her. That much that he is even willing to kill the thing he most desperately wants._ **

“Can we go home now?” I mutter, violently pushing the vision aside. Obsessed men do not interest me in the least.

“I thought you would never ask,” Aréte beams. “I feel like having some hot _xocolatl_.”

“You should not consume too much of that stuff. Chocolate is bad for the reception of your reality, the balance of your body and for your Midi-chlorians.“

Aréte laughs. “Do not worry about my Midi-chlorians, Isa. They are balanced and happy. I am not my mother. None of us is like her.”

I want to remark something about the dangers being a xocolatl addict, but I choose not to. Instead I step out of the ski tracks that she has made for us.

The Elfin magic makes my hair stand up, crackling all over my body. I know the extent of the wound before the pain arrives, but I remain frozen to the spot.

Helplessly, I fall straight into the activated booby-trap. The snow has concealed it from me and I had been too preoccupied to notice it at all. My fall ends hard and abrupt. The ice below knows nothing of mercy.

********************************************************************

The term _´Deep Impact´_ which the holocron had once used to explain the crash of the giant meteor on Terra gains a terrible new meaning for me. My left underarm has broken right in the middle, the bone forces its way out of flesh and skin. My right shoulder has also cracked, being dislocated. My ribs, too, have been bruised. My left leg is broken as well, but it is a clean brake.

Despite all that pain I make no sound. There is still a tiny chance and I want to use it.

I lie still for some few heart beats, gathering strength.

Then I bend over to tear off the ski shoes and woollen socks from my feet, embracing the pain. What does not kill me will make me stronger.

While my brain is almost exploding with the sensations of my hurt body parts, I rise to my bare feet.

My eyes judge the situation in a brief scan. I jump anyway.

While I am in the air, I hear Aréte scream in a heartbreaking way.

My claws cannot not drill deep enough into the thick ice layer. Effortlessly, I slide down again, getting no grip at the walls. My broken arm and leg complicate the situation even more.

The strong smell of blood is in the air, mingled with the foul stench of two Elfin men.

Only then I start to howl, not an instant before. I go on until my voice breaks.

The silence that follows is a bad one.

They are still out there, listening.

I sob uncontrollably, realizing that my sweet princess is gone for good. The vessel that has been her body has been ripped apart. All the evil spell left of her is a bloody mess in the snow.

In the distance I hear a hunting horn. The ears of the Elves are not tuned to that sound at all, but my ancestors had murdered to it.

With the sleeves of my winter coat I wipe my frozen tears off my cheeks.

Finally help comes from the castle. There must have been a tremor in the Force. Somebody up in the castle must have felt Aréte die.

“I will cripple you two _cretins_ beyond recognition!” I promise the two murderers. “Then I will find your families and hunt them down, member by member! And I make you watch me while I do so.”

They stir a bit, their druid robes rustling with the movements they make.

I continue, the thoughts racing feverishly through my sore mind. “But perhaps I simply wait until you explained yourselves to Her Holiness Mórag MagUhidir. As an ally of House Tjiehennet she will not tolerate this act of crime.”

Two pale faces peek down at me. I have their full attention now and I will abuse that to the very limit.

“Oh, there you are! Viscount O’Maoilrian looks a lot like you.”

“Do not confuse us with that scum!” one of the druids shouts, shaking his fists at me. His voice has the thick accent of the Sleah Maith.

“No, you are the scum. His Lordship is a man of principles. You are just hypocritical. He serves the dark openly. You are both very far away from the light that you claim to belong to. To kill a girl who just wanted to enjoy a winter day in the open... shame on you!”

“What do you know about the battle of good and evil, creature?” Now the other druid speaks to me, his voice full of contempt.

“Serving the god queen that close I know more about it than you can ever grasp, Elf. I see her children from dusk ’till dawn. They differ so much from their mother. All they do is full of honesty and love. Dark thoughts are very far away from them. Yet you sick perverts hunt them down at each possible occasion, spoiling their life. What do you want to achieve from that?”

“Freedom!” comes the simple answer.

My dirty laugh bursts out of my mouth with such a force, that it reminds me painfully about the bad state of my ribs. “Freedom? This is why a child is scattered all over the place? Very civilised. You are more notorious than my step-brother Vicomte Ankoù.”

They almost stumble over their robes into my pit.

“Why is it that everybody is so afraid of Luçien? Because a powerful Force bender is his real father Dealg?” I keep on talking, knowing it will buy extra time. “Now that I consider my step-brother: he has very friendly bonds with Senator Aletheia. It was not a clever move of you to kill one of the royal princesses.”

Their fear is so palpable, making my mouth water. I hope that one of the druids will faint and fall down into the pit with me. My shaking body needs warm blood.

“Luçien has murdered for less insults, you know. In the desert cities of my home planet, they call him...”

My heart misses a beat or two when my nose catches their arrival. The familiar sound of their small footsteps is softened by the snow. ”Non, non...!” I whisper in terror.

****************************************************************

**“I am sorry.”** Èleos thoughts fill my head. It is not unpleasant. Actually it feels like being wrapped in a warm and fluffy blanket. **“There has already been enough bloodshed. I cannot allow any more of it, Isa. We must end this deadly circle or the dark side will forever haunt our family.”**

I stand motionless, bleeding onto the ice. The only thing that I can do was to listen to everything that was going on.

**“I will help you, Isa.”**

Suddenly, the young prince shares his visual sensations with me.

I see the large backs of the two druid priests, frightening giants to the children.

I see the sad remains of Aréte close to the pit, bone splinters and organ tissues scattered on the snow.

I see the tears on Sereno’s face.

**“Don’t!”** I scream inwardly. **“These men here do not deserve your forgiveness! Let your mother and her rancors deal with them! Run! Seek shelter!”**

He does not listen. “I am Prince Èleos Arcānā Tjiehenet. And this is my brother Sereno. We come in peace!”

It is fortunate for the children that the druids restrict themselves to just staring at them.

“My siblings and I regret all the harm that was done to the nation of the Elves since their arrival on this very planet,” Èleos continuous with a calm face, usually reserved for holy festivals. “Even though those dark deeds were committed long before we were born, we feel responsible for all the harm that was done by...”

“Hurry up!” Sereno begs. “Please! She will be here soon!”

Èleos takes a bold step forward. “I beg you, milords, by all that is holy and lives in the light, let me offer myself as a hostage. I want to prevent further bloodshed.”

“That is your frecking plan, kid?” I yell.

The snow falls soundlessly on all of us and it seems that many centuries pass by before the druids come up with a suitable answer. The severe blood loss has forced me down on my knees by now.

One of the Elfin men says, _“Tha mi an dòchas nach bi.”_

My shared vision with Èleos ends abruptly. I am in the air, floating upwards. I know for sure that I am not dead, because I feel every inch of my journey.

Angry mountain rancors are not a pretty sight. They are more aggressive than their bigger desert sisters. The call of the dark side is strong in them.

“Behold!” I call out. “I do not want to be eaten up during your rescue mission, Arcānā!”

Her voice is like a blade. “And I would like to know what happened to Èleos. If anyone could be so kind to enlighten me...”

Only when she says so I realize that the boy is not around any longer. He has been taken.

****************************************************************

Thousands of little snow flakes come down from dense winter clouds, making the world more even. The good, the dead and the ugly, all of us are touched by the flakes. The landscape around us seems swelling with them inch by inch. I wonder if the snow masses will get so high that they even will reach out for the heavens themselves.

The winds have gained in strength. They rattle through the fir trees with unexpected strength and make them moan loudly like legendary _banshees_ , death fairies.

Six bulky rancors, specially bred for the icy mountains, flatten the path before us. They are brutal and mean creatures. The climate has made them harsh in many ways. I do not care for making further contact with them. Normally, I care a lot for any type of transport animal or pet. My heart is just too heavy to enjoy the play of their impressive muscles. Or even the pride with which they carry themselves through the blindingly white landscape.

Two agents of the Draconian secret service, called _fovea centralis_ , carry my stretcher with great care. Sereno walks at my side, his hand shyly strokes mine from time to time. He does not dare to speak. I would talk to him, if I would possess more strength. So I lie in silence, trying to deal with the unthinkable that has happened today. I failed the royal family.

I am their ward, the nanny. The children are my responsibility. Today, when it had mattered the most, I had let them down. I will never be able to forgive myself.

When we reach the mighty draw bridge of Dún Barr, I try to lift my upper body upwards.

“Don’t!” Sereno begs. “You have an open arm wound and I am sure your shoulders will not like it.”

I grant the boy a sharp look. “You know what I do not like? Not knowing where your brother is.”

“He is alive and well.”

“And who exactly can grantee that to me? You? He himself perhaps?”

Some tears ran over his handsome face. “Please trust us on that!”

“You really demand a lot, Sereno.”

I close my eyes to shut him out, but I can smell his strong feeling of guilt.

When our trek crosses the castle bridge, I open my eyes again and focus my eyes skywards. I cannot bear to look down into the large canyon itself or at the gigantic waterfall behind the ancient stone castle that is frozen at this time of year.

I try to imagine where Éleos is. Is he still in one piece or has turned into a bloody mess like Aréte? Is he inside and warm?

Elves are self-centred creatures. Their hearts are so cold that their skin burns from it. They need no fire to keep them warm. Can Midi-chlorians freeze? Is Èleos helpless in the hands of his kidnappers.

Anger turns Sereno’s cheeks rosy. “He was not kidnapped, Isa. He went with the Elves because he wanted to. They did promise not to harm them.”

“This is no children’s hide and seek any longer. You have to deal with very ancient grown-ups here. Aliens from Outer Space, who have totally different thought patterns. And believe me, they have no spark of honour left in them. They will take him apart limb by limb.”

I am too annoyed to stay flat on the stretcher.

“Do not be too harsh with the boy!”

A druid has remained behind. He is walking next to me, his hands bound in iron chains. Two stern looking fovea centralis agents are seizing him grimly by his shoulders. His hood has come off and reveals his thin face. He has pitch black hair that reaches onto his shoulders. That hair makes his skin look even paler.

“I will not be told by a child murderer how to deal with a protégé of mine,” I hiss at him.” Keep your educational thoughts to yourself until the god queen will rip them out of your brain!”

“My life is forfeit none the less.”

“You kidding me? Stop being such a martyr! You brought this on yourself when you decided to built the magic booby-trap in the snow.” I roll my eyes and seek eye contact with one of the agents. “Why did you not cut out his poisonous tongue? He can kill with words.”

“Orders from Her devine Majesty,” the straw blond woman answers briefly.

“This low life abused her trust and good will by crossing the boarders of her land already.”

The druid smirks at me. “This was once our land, milady.”

“This was never your land. This is not even your planet.”

“Is it yours?” he dares to ask, showing no humbleness.

“I know that I am a visitor with restricted rights. Nothing more and and nothing less. But your people spread over Draconis like an illness.”

He gives me a sullen look. “Our soul is the land.”

“For that you would need to have a soul in the first place. And after what I was forced to witness out there. I doubt very much that you have one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens”, a movie by J.J. Abrams & the Walt Disney Company (2015)  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

When our trek crosses the castle bridge, I open my eyes again and focus my eyes skywards. I cannot bear to look down into the large canyon itself or at the gigantic waterfall behind the ancient stone castle that is frozen at this time of year.

I try to imagine where Éleos is. Is he still in one piece or has turned into a bloody mess like Aréte? Is he inside and warm?

Elves are self-centred creatures. Their hearts are so cold that their skin burns from it. They need no fire to keep them warm. Can Midi-chlorians freeze? Is Èleos helpless in the hands of his kidnappers.

Anger turns Sereno’s cheeks rosy. “He was not kidnapped, Isa. He went with the Elves because he wanted to. They did promise not to harm them.”

“This is no children’s hide and seek any longer. You have to deal with very ancient grown-ups here. Aliens from Outer Space, who have totally different thought patterns. And believe me, they have no spark of honour left in them. They will take him apart limb by limb.”

I am too annoyed to stay flat on the stretcher.

“Do not be too harsh with the boy!”

A druid has remained behind. He is walking next to me, his hands bound in iron chains. Two stern looking fovea centralis agents are seizing him grimly by his shoulders. His hood has come off and reveals his thin face. He has pitch black hair that reaches onto his shoulders. The hair makes his skin look even paler.

“I will not be told by a child murderer how to deal with a protégé of mine,” I hiss at him.” Keep your educational thoughts to yourself until the god queen will rip them out of your brain!”

“My life is forfeit none the less.”

“You kidding me? Stop being such a martyr! You brought this on yourself when you decided to built the magic booby-trap in the snow.” I roll my eyes and seek eye contact with one of the agents. “Why did you not cut out his poisonous tongue? He can kill with words.”

“Orders from the queen,” the straw blond woman answers briefly.

“This low life abused her trust and good will by crossing the boarders of her land already.”

The druid smirks at me. “This was once our land, milady.”

“This was never your land. This is not even your planet.”

“Is it yours?” he dares to ask, showing no humbleness.

“I know that I am a visitor with restricted rights. Nothing more and nothing less. But your people spread over Draconis like an illness.”

He gives me a sullen look. “Our soul is the land.”

“For that you would need to have a soul in the first place. And after what I was forced to witness out there. I doubt very much that you have one.”

When we all passed the impressive gate way, we were silently greeted by the entire Shesha. I bet the reptilian women have drunken a lot of hot xocolatl to be able to meet us outside the castle walls.

All in all it seems to me that the entire royal household fills up the inner yard: Agathos, Narthex, Adamah, Sereno, Caelestris, the widowed Mistress Aletheia and a congregation of snake priestesses. All their faces are just blurry images to me. Only one thing shone clear in front of me. Blood on the snow.

The druid is continuously talking to me, but I shut him out completely. His voice has been the one who has condemned my dear Aréte to death. He had made her explode. I wonder how many people had felt it through the Force.

“... a trauma expert from Amnion.” Agathos’ face is hovering above me. “She also needs a surgeon. Otherwise she might lose her arm for good.”

“I am so sorry.” I do not possess enough strength left to speak out loud. My words come out like a mere whisper, yet he had heard me.

“Isabeau, you stood up for my children so many times. It is a miracle that there were no more casualties.” He gets down on his knees, clasping my hands. “My family owes you so much.”

All the warmth of his fingers cannot chase away the dreadful cold in my soul.

“I lost her.” At this point my sobbing has swelled into a big crescendo. “I... I...”

Narthex also leans down, stroking my wet cheeks. “Nobody blames you. This could have happened to any of us out there in the forest.”

So much blood for such a small child body.

“I failed!” I scream. “I failed her! She is gone!”

“Isabeau, do not hurt yourself!” The master valet insists. “You carry no blame!”

“Indeed.” Arcānā has joined us. “You are innocent. We know whom to make responsible. I promise you to leave enough of that filthy creature that you can live out your anger.”

Blinking my tears away, I stare straight into a twin pair of yellow lights. The dark side has been fully unleashed.

Around me the rancors, being as sensitive to that subject as I am, become restless. There is something wrong in their movements and sounds. I am remembered of a herd of banthas shortly before a stampede.

Before anybody can hold me back I raise my torso, avoiding to put much pressure on my broken arm.

“Get a grip of yourself, Arcānā!” I shout at her. “Can’t you see what impact you have on your pets? Do you want us all to get killed? Later on you can do whatever you want to that Elf. Now snap out of your mood!”

All eyes in the yard, human and non-human alike are fixed on me. “I want all animals being brought into their stables now! Do it quick, yet not too hasty! Feed them straight away with fresh meat. They lust for it.”

While Arcānā booms with deep laughter, feet hurry away to fulfil my orders.

The situation relaxes slightly. The rancors already act calmer than just a few heartbeats before.

“The members of the royal household are to retreat and so is the rest of the staff. Every unnecessary people: clear the yard!” I move on, sinking back when I finished. “And this one is for you, Queeny: Aréte is gone, true. But she has brothers and sisters that need all our love, care and attention now!”

Cold sweat runs over my forehead. I feel a careful hand removing it with a cloth. “You will be fine, Isabeau,” Narthex says gently.

“No more Elfin magic, not even to save my arm. Words can do so much harm. Simple words, words in the wind.”

The door to the future is wide open.

“Go to Dagobah!” the bearded man says to the bleeding boy who lies on the ice. He is fully exposed to the forces of nature. The Force ghost before him is not.

I black out on the stretcher, exhausted.

********************************************************************

The operation has been a success from the doctors point of view. Half in shock, half in wonderment I look at my new artificial limb: a robotic prostheses instead of a new grown arm in the laboratory.

Amnion has strange techniques to heal their citizens.

The metallic fingers click while I move them uncertainly.

In the eyes of my own people I am an Untouchable now, a mere cripple.

“Guess that is a second reason never to return to my home planet,” I muse more to myself than to my male visitors.

“Isabeau, it was a difficult choice for me to make, but dearly I hope it was the right one,” Agathos feels compelled to say. “I felt that you would not be satisfied with anything that came out of my wife’s underground laboratories.”

Gingerly, I put my healthy hand in his, pressing it softly. “You were right.”

The anaesthetics make me so dizzy that I cannot fight the landscape of the future unrolling in front of me.

_The boy holds the girl shyly with his new prosthetic arm. Together they look out at the nebula of a galaxy. They both have suffered recent losses. The most pressing one was the loss of innocence. War does that to people._

I blink the vision away, but a new one comes to me.

_A young couple exchange their wedding vows in secret. The man in dark robes also has a cybernetic arm. He is tender with his wife anyway. She used to be a queen, but now she is only his. Tonight, there will be no war, just love._

“Are you okay?” Narthex is pale with concern.

I laugh, swimming away on the drugs they had given me. “Now and then I get dizzy from fighting the future. There are those visions, you see? They reach out for me. Most of the time I turn away from them. It is not good knowing what the future brings. You are too busy avoiding things then instead of facing them.”

Both men look down at me thoughtfully.

“Do not tell Luçien! He will never understand. I found out that he is a witch hunter, you know?” I giggle. “He will kill me for it. I am sure of it.”

Eventually, I giggle myself into sleep.

********************************************************************

It is not the god queen who turns life into a misery for all of us over the next few sun days.

Techné Aletheia Is even worse than the destructive forces of a sand storm. To stay friendly to her is a big challenge for me. She insults me where ever and when ever she can. It is her own son Agathos who stands up for me most of the time. Sometimes it is Arcānā herself.

The children are utterly embarrassed by the behaviour of their grandmother. Since the death of Aréte and the disappearance of Èleos they are utterly quiet. In hushed voices the play cards or dice games. There is no running all over the huge castle grounds, no hiding in the labyrinth of gangways. They are always in plain sight and stay together as a group. It spooks me out.

One evening Techné Aletheia makes a big scene in the library. In the end it is her who leaves with puffed cheeks and not me.

Agathos breathes hard when she closes the door behind her. On his way back to his arm chair he presses my shoulder reassuringly. “Well met, Isa.”

Arcānā has not paid us any attention. Since dusk she stands in front of the coloured glass window, gazing outside into the winter storm. Grianán is sleeping in her arms.

Today has been a dull day for everybody.

In the early morning hours the royal mummy makers have arrived with their gruesome equipment. Arête’s will be taken away. Special pincers will pull her brain out via her nose. Then the lifeless body will rest in a special salt bath for forty sun days, getting dried up bit by bit. The last step will be to embalm the girl with expensive oils, wine and herbs.

My gaze is resting on Grianán’s face, when the baby suddenly opens it’s eyes in alarm.

One heartbeat later the door handle moves and the thick wooden door is pushed open.

My feline senses go crazy.

********************************************************************

The icy voice of a woman informs Arcānā, “I think that I found something that belongs to you.”

It is only a short relief to see Èleos standing there for behind the dark figure.

With narrowed eyes I glare at the slender build Sleah Maith that stands in our midst. She is dressed in an anthracite travelling cloak. The snow melting on its felt surface leaves wet marks on the floor.

“Do not think that you do impress me much by appearing in front of my door step.” Arcānā does not turn. “I felt you both coming all along!”

“I am not here to impress you. The Elfin Nation is upset.”

“Upset?” Arcānā twirls around, her blond mane crackling with the Force lightening. “The body of my dead daughter rests there between salt grains!”

Something makes me reach for my walking aids.

It hurts a big deal to move so quickly, but I boldly step between the two women.

“I presume that you are Her Holiness Mórag MagUidhir?” My voice stays steady, almost casual. “The Holy Inquisition herself?”

The Elf raises a pitch black and extremely thin eyebrow at me.

“I hope Èleos did not do something to offend you.”

While saying so, I open my arms as much as my walking sticks allow me to. My ward rushes into them anyway. I feel his hot tears of joy through the fabric of my tunic. He is unharmed and well. That is more than I had hoped for.

“Why are you assuming that the boy did something wrong, Marquise?” the Sleah Maith inquires, a sinister slur in her voice.

“I know how how religious fanatics like you tick.”

“Do you now, Marquise?”

I make my back straighter, gently pushing my ward away from me.“Agathos, would you be so kind as to lead the children into the kitchen,” I say. “They need some hot milk with honey, especially Èleos here.”

The prince consort grants me a grateful look, while he gathers his off-spring to leave the room with him.

Only when the door is closed, I raise my voice again. “The last person who was stupid enough to rouse your suspicion had been a poor unfortunate girl named Sionnach O'Conghaile.”

********************************************************************

Elfin eyes try to drill holes into me, scanning the surface of my mind. Mórag MagUidhir wants to find more things about the dreaded clone. But she cannot find anything though. There is only me in my head and endless sand dunes. Nothing else.

“You are not the first Force user trying to rumble around in my utmost privacy,” I tell her. “I find your lack of respect disturbing. A woman of your age should know better. How old are you? Seven hundred years? Eight hundred? Surely younger than nine hundred years.”

Her dark iris shifts from black into a yellow hue. Blood vessels show in unhealthy ways.

“The Mountainers do not like you. They call you the baby snatcher,” I add for consideration. “But you came here in vain. Grianán is mine. She will not be hunted down like her cousin Sionnach. This is not a snow rabbit. It is a baby. You have no right.”

I moved with a swiftness that takes her aback. When I have my fangs hoovering over her bare throat, my body throbs with pain. “Once more: Grianán is mine. Mine alone. Neither Arcānā nor you are able to raise her the way she needs to be raised.”

“Excuse me!” The child’s mother steps forward, steaming with anger. “Grianán is blood of my blood. You are just the nanny.”

“In a couple of months I bleed for her even more than you ever did.”

Violently, I let go of Mórag MagUidhir.

Outside the castle the winter storm has regained strength. It howls like a choir of voices, leaving me wonder whether the souls of slain Elfin soldiers still are fighting their battles.

Arcānā lashes out at me through the Force. Within the blink of an eye I am flung through the air. My throat ends up straight in her right hand.

While I dangle from her outstretched arm, feeling absolutely stupid and unnerved, Grianán starts wailing in a high pitched and unnatural way.

“This bickering is pointless,” Mórag MagUidhir intervenes. “Arcānā, release her!”

No reaction whatsoever.

“Now!” the Sleah Maith commands.

For a moment the grip grows tenser, but then I am carelessly dropped onto the hard stone floor.

I just lie there for a while, panting hard. It is a comfort to feel the soothing warmth of the special floor heating.

********************************************************************

When I finally manage to get up again, Grianán has cried herself hoarse. I feel so sorry for the poor, young thing. In her short life she has witnessed enough horror and violence. I ask myself if that will leave marks on her soul for good.

Mórag MagUidhir gives me a dark look. “She is spoiled for me anyway.”

“You are a mind reader, too,” I consider straight away.

“Once there were many among my people. The star dust on Earth was different. Here it is hostile, invested with Midi-chlorians.”

“So you are the odd one out. Being a child of both worlds.”

“It was an accident. I do not blame my mother. She did not intend getting pregnant with me.”

Her gaze is so murderous that it gives me no difficulties to guess the true source of her hatred. All the necessary answers lay before me as a desert dune, so easily accessible.

“My mother´s tribe always welcomed new blood,” I point out.

“This is why you are the true baby snatchers,” she hisses back.

“All that helps a tribe to survive is good.” There is no reason for me to get emotional. It is a matter of fact. “But you drain your own people in unbelievable ways. You deform them mentally and physically.”

My words cause the icy shell to melt and set free the fierce spirit that lurks underneath. “How dare you make a statement about the ways of my order?” she rants. “How dare you to have an opinion at all about that, cat slave?”

The god queen makes a sound that sounds like a suppressed chuckle. Then she walks off with a sleeping Grianán and sinks into the nearest armchair.

“You surround yourself with abominations, Arcānā,” Mórag MagUidhir accuses her. “How can you sink so low? You have the most promising potential in the royal family since centuries.”

My voice is as calm and as even as a sand dune in the glittering midday sun. “You and your precious order have too high an opinion. That will turn against you at one point.”

“The beanmna feasa will prevail. Nothing can stop us from spreading the light of truth in the universe.”

“Pride will be your down fall.” The future is dancing in front of my eyes. “Agents of light will help the darkness to grow in unbelievable ways. The Force witches of Dathomir, the Order of the Sith...”

“Sith?” the slender grown Elf interrupts me sharply. “You do pronounce it: _shee_.”

I make a soft moan. “The term _baobhan sith_ describes a female vampire or a succubus.”

“There is no such thing existing!”

“When I see the dark deeds of you and your order than I believe, Your Holiness, there are such creatures. You are a vampire, bloodless and undead. And you have no heart.”

She makes herself as stiff as possible. “I will come back for Grianán when she is at least three summers old.”

“Make it nine.” I suggested. “You cannot take away a baby from the breasts of its own mother. That is wrong. Children must grow up with their families, learn the values and moral of their culture from their clan members.”

“Three sun years and NOT breastfed by her mother any longer.”

“Like I said: you have no heart in your chest,” I remark, my jaw jutting out. “It is a stone. Cold and unfeeling. Poor child to have such a fairy godmother.”

Mórag MagUidhir rises her arms high above her head and mutters some strange words in her ancient mother tongue. Then she is gone. As if she has never been among us.

“Why did you not stop her?” I am furious with Arcānā. “Why did it have to be my call? You make the entire Holy Isle shake with your anger. You can kill folk with Force lightening from your...”

Suddenly, Arcānā seems but a frightened child. “Mórag is a member of this family, too. One of its oldest members. She is many times my great-aunt.”

“Yet you wear the crown of the realm.” My cheeks burn hotter than desert sand at noon. “You are in charge of this planet.”

“There are alliances and rules you cannot possibly understand. I must obey her wishes.”

“Is she your dark mistress?” My eyes are wide in shock. “Did you make a pact with her?”

“No,” Arcānā mumble. “I serve nobody but my own. Yet she is an authority on this planet not to trifle with.”

“There is no fear. There is only yourself.” I lift my chin up very high. “Start living by that sentiment. There is nothing to fear from that creature that just walked out of us.

********************************************************************

Aréte is given a pompous funeral ceremony on the Holy Isle of Cunabula. She is put to rest among the mummies of her royal ancestors.

Death is just the beginning for the Ophidiae. A step into a greater universe. This tradition seems not right to me.

My people are the children of the dune sea. They are born in the desert and die out there. Elderly people wander off when their time has come. Most of them are accompanied by their loyal and equally aged bantha.

But when death sneaks in via illness, then the mortal remains have to be carried out of the camp and placed in the sand. In those sad cases there is a soul-bound bantha too, guarding the bones. It wanes away with the parched or rotting flesh of its master.

Among the creatures of the desert all is about giving and taking. The Circle of Life is not to be broken. It is an unavoidable though unwritten rule, yet known by all nomads.

Perhaps the Ophidiae too have once lived in harmony with Mother Nature, but the dark deeds of their god queens and their scientists have brought evil into their midst.

My special feline senses go crazy each time that I pass the entrance to the sacred royal crypt.

There are still broken whispers to be heard down there, made by mouth-less voices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources: “Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire strikes back”, a movie by George Lucas (1980)  
> “Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones”, a movie by George Lucas (2002)  
> The fact book “Was ist was? Band 084: Mumien” by Renate Germer, published the German TESSLOFF VERLAG. Ragnar Tessloff GmbH & Co. in May 2014  
> The “Enchanted World” series by Time Life Books in the 1980ies  
> Wookieepedia – The Star Wars Wiki  
> Jedipedia, a free German Star Wars-Enzyklopedia  
> Hidden quotes from SW movies and the SW universe


	16. Chapter 16

**Dark adapted eyes, Chapter 16:**

Agathos and Narthex insist on me taking a break after all the events in the Mountains, and I know they are right. I must learn to live with my new artificial limb.

Therefore I get send to the desert village Sendero.

After my first night there, I witness how the village slowly comes to life.

Dark skinned Ophidiae in bask corsages and colourful saris step out of their homes. Many of them have the steeled bodies of warrior women, even though they make a living by raising their cattle and doing some farm work. All half-blooded women wear their hair in the traditional braid style.

The smell of Setaria porridge and bantha milk moves slowly over the village square, tickling in my nose. My conclusion is that all the men of the village society are bent over the fire places of their straw huts, cooking for their female clan members and themselves.

It is a peaceful and simple life. Everybody has a place in society and fixed working tasks.

As soon as the rain period will start, these semi-nomads will travel around with their herds, mostly consisting of banthas and eopies. They will travel to the edge of the colour desert, where the richest grass grows. When those meadows will be empty, the people of Sendero will return to the dwell. Then all will start anew.

It is a cycle that is well known to me. My own tribe lived that way until it got erased from House Ankoù. By now even the dune sea might have forgotten the name of Clan Riwalan. Their skeletons are long gone, ground away by time and sand alike. I am all that is left of them. The last to remember the glory of the tribe mothers, their victories and their bravery.

How have I ever been able to live under the roof of the ducal homestead?

Shame overwhelms me. I am so disgusted with myself.

A tame kitten I have been, blissful and spoiled, until unforeseen and unfortunate events had sent my on a journey back to my roots. A journey that is unlike anything that I have ever experienced. And, even worse, it was not over yet.

With both hands I reach out and take comfort in the small amulet that Èleos had given me one sun month ago. The wooden trinket feels warm in my hand, as warm as a baby body pressing against me.

Until now I have been a desert rose, a huntress, an unwilling dark acolyte, an outcast of the House Ankoù and the royal nanny of the god queen's precious children. To think of myself as a clairvoyant is not easy. I never wanted to see the future in any way. I live in the here and now. To have visions is against all that I ever wanted.

My eyes move over the peaceful flock of banthas around me. Their massive, hairy forms make me smiley. I love their smell, their grunting, basically everything about them. They are not as vibrantly, abundantly beautiful as all the wild life of the Mother Jungle, true. Yet they stir a part in me, that I had forgotten existed. Even domesticated, they are part of the untamed desert. They are soul-bound to it.

A bantha of my own, this was all that I ever wanted. At the age of seven I should have had my initiation ceremony with a female calf. At the same time my twin-brother Matin would have gotten in touch with a young bull. Together we could have forged the mystical bond with our animal friends.

House Ankoù has taken my chance for a normal life and children away.

Had I grown up in the surroundings I was supposed to be in, my life would have changed the very moment my bantha would have reached maturity. Due to the intimate soul bond between the two of us, my body would have reacted to hers. I would have saddled her and rode into the desert for our adult initiation ceremonies.

And when I would have decided to mate, the young cow also would have mated with a young bull. When my partner and I would have had a child, our banthas would have gotten a calf of the same sex.

Such a bond was never forged with me. This has left me crippled. I will never have children of my own. And I will never mate. My mother's clan name will die with me. At least no bantha cow will ever commit suicide because I am to die first. That at least is a small relief for me.

It is not only the morning sun that turns my eye into small slits. I blink my tears away.

Laboriously, I manage to get up from the straw in which I have lain. My new artificial limb needs much training still.

The eopie cow with whom I spent my night gives me a friendly snort. I kiss her on her soft trunk.

“Thanks, sister. Your presence kept my bad dreams and memories away.”

She seems to understand me and rubs her head carefully against my belly.

“Do not worry, sister. I will return tomorrow night, if you and your clan do not mind.”

I look around in the stable, but none of the eight other animals seems to disagree. They all bow to me and I give them a royal acknowledgement in return.

There is new hay or grass to fetch for the eopies. Their water bowls also need a refill. They do not need much, but what they need I will provide for them. I am not here on vacation. And the last thing I want is to be treated as a spoiled royal guest. This is why I have refused living in the summer palace of the deceased Tamisra. I will make myself as useful as I can.

When I leave the stable, a toddler of almost two sun years is moving towards me. Its little arms and legs move with quick efficiency.

That gives my heart a pang.

Picking up this unknown baby here feels as natural as sleeping next to an eopie. It smells even better. The concerned mother is close. It is Ombra, the village mother.

_”Domina!”_ the half-blood says with great respect. Her skin is as dark and creamy as the cursed xocolatl that Solitaire once gave me.

“Please call me Isabeau, Ombra,” I sigh. “Isabeau. That is all that I am, that I ever will be. I am not of royal blood.”

“But you are the companion of our beloved queen.” Her voice is strongly accented. “This makes you part of the Holy family.”

Now people think we are having an affair, Arcānā and I. She is the last person in the universe that I want to be with.

“The Force runs weak in my family. There are more important things to care for: the cattle, the fields, the household,” confines Ombra to me. “The royal serpent-spawn has the heavy legacy of the Force. Nobody around here envies them for that. They are direct descendants of the Celestrials.”

********************************************************************

Ombra and I stand silent for a good while, watching some good-natured boys catching water from the nearby well.

“They are what they are, though. And we do love and honour them for that.” Ombra continuous.

I hand her the baby back. My stomach is making noises, so loud that it can be clearly heard.

“Isabeau,” says Ombra, “might I invite you into my humble home for breakfast.”

“Only when you allow me to bring along fuel for your fire place.”

I point to some bucket that I have filled with eopie dropping. That task I have at least chosen myself. My weird visions I have not.

Ombra looks grateful. “You are very welcome, Isabeau.”

I walk to the bucket and take it with me into the hut. With every step that I move towards the hut I swear to myself: No more visions of any kind.

Master Yoda will be born many aeons from now on. So will be the young queen with her face covered in white make-up, the boy with the sad blue eyes, the girl with the silly hair buns, the black machine man and the masked warrior with his tripartite fire blade.

I can be at ease now, enjoying myself. Plus train my new limb.

********************************************************************

Five years later, shortly before the fifth birthday of the second serpent-spawn I return from Sendero, which has been as hospitable as ever.

The swing in my step is easy, my muscles are well trained by herding the cattle, working in the stalls and being a huntress for the little community.

Members of the Shesha, the royal guard, are surprised to see me when I step out of the local _porta nigra_ with no luggage to claim but a single spear.

I give a friendly nod and make my way over the Holy Island, checking in on my protégés.

I walk towards the favourite swimming spot of the children. Only the eleven year old Éleos and his younger sister Grianán are present. Both children are so consumed by observing three river dolphins that they do not notice my presence.

I climb into a nearby tree and make myself comfortable on one of its larger branches. While I do I give the signal to all guards in the area to draw back.

It is a pleasure watching the two siblings in the water.

For his age Éleos is rather haggard, but at least he possesses muscular arms and legs. Most of his skin has minor scratches from his games in the Mother Jungle. He moves with ease and elegance, laughing wild and free. It is good to see him so relaxed, carefree even.

It is clear to me that Grianán is the reason for his happiness. The four sun year old is a blessing. She has the biggest and brightest eyes that I have ever known. They are of a very soft grey and seem like mist. One can absolutely lose oneself in those eyes.

To ignore a request from the girl is almost impossible. Her natural fragility is another factor why people are always kind and patient with her.

There is one exception though, someone who is not charmed by her: Adamah. I am not entirely sure of the reasons, though I can guess at them.

There have been rumours and whispers. Nobody dares to speak out loud against the crown princess, especially after the mysterious circumstances of her grandmother's death. I have not witnessed it before, but now the evidence is overwhelming.

The first slap into the small face hits without warning. Not even Éleos had seen it coming in the Force. She has worked hard at that.

I, of course, have heard Adamah approaching, have smelt her odour in advance.

Not to intervene is heartbreaking.

The jungle itself seems to hold its breath.

The neighbouring colony of red monkeys, the mighty choir of birds, the frogs on the giant leaves of the Victoria plant – they all turn silent.

_”Vaffanculo!”_ Adamah screams in her mother tongue. _Piss off!_

But Grianán stays on.

_”Non capisci un cazzo.”_ Adamah hits her again, finally getting Éleos attention. _You understand nothing of it._

My eyes turn into slits as a nervous arakanga sailed passes all of us. He cries out his complaints until his colourful parrot body gets lost in the distance.

Adamah yet dares to raise her right hand again. I feel like breaking each of the six fingers that are attached to it.

_”Smettila!”_ calls Éleos, swimming towards the edge of the river. _Stop it at once!_

He is out of the water in no time and is now right behind Grianán, putting his hands on her bony shoulders.

I can see white healing energy flowing into the girl, calming her at once. She stops shivering and dries her silent tears.

_”Guarda che rompi, Scemo! Pensa ai fatti tuoi!”_ Adamah turns dark red with anger. _You are an unnerving idiot! Take care of your own business._

_”Non avere paura, bella!”_ Éleos kneels, turning Grianán around to him. _Do not fear, beauty!_

His urge to teach her to overcome her fear makes me smiley.

Grianán does not need any training in some far away snowy mountains. The best person to teach her in the ways of the Force is one of her own brothers. The services of Her Holiness Mórag MagUhidir are not required.

_”Lei m'ha fatto propiro arrabbiare. Non mi sento in colpa,”_ insists Adamah, before she is accused of anything at all. _She did annoy me very much. I did nothing wrong at all._

I bite my own lip from the inside, trying to stay focused on the scenery.

_”Tutta colpa tua!”_ replies Éleos very calm. _It is your fault!_

Then I notice a subtle change in Adamah's proud posture. _”Non ne voglio parlare,”_ she whispers so soft that I almost can't hear her. I do not wish to talk about it.

_”Perché no? Ti sei offerto? Sei rimasto male?”_ The voice of Éleos seems to echo everywhere in the forest. _Why not? Are you crossed? Are you disappointed?_

I am very upset with the boy. To use his Force powers in such an unfair way. There is much dishonesty in such a battle style. Besides, these are not my teachings. If he wishes to found an order of knights, that means to serve the people and commits to the common good, then he should be above actions like that.

It seems to dawn on Adamah that there is something very wrong with her body chemistry and that her brother is the cause of it. Yet she cannot help but answer his inquiries. _”Puó darsi. No lo so di preciso,”_ she admits. _It might be. I do not exactly know._

_”Mi fai pena, Adamah.”_ Éleos puts too much stress on the pronunciation of his twins name. _I am sorry for you, Adamah._

I have to end it here and now.

“You had better be sorry for yourself, kiddo.”

My suppressed anger carries my voice. I am fully aware that it will draw back the ever alert Shesha.

********************************************************************

Éleos and Adamah both jump. The mental connection that formed between them must be very strong at present. It might be hard to tell where the awareness of one child ends and the other begins.

“Isa!”

I leave my hiding place and land on top of the ancient stair case.

Grianán struggles free of her elder brother's embrace, flying towards me. She jumps up the steps, two at a time. For a girl that is petité she has enormous energy reserves. When she finally sits in my arms like a queen on her thrown, I lick the tears off her face. She starts giggling, her world perfect again.

“I will not discuss this incident with your mother, but I will consult with both your father and grandfather about it,” I remark.

Adamah draws her eyebrows together. “I have no grandfather.”

“Let me tell you something, child. If I were Narthex I also would not like to wish such a spoiled, sneaky brat like you as my granddaughter. It must be more than pity that he feels for you, though. Somehow he did learn to love you despite of what you are.”

My sharp remark hits her full force. Tears are flooding her brown eyes now. That pacifies me a bit.

Shame, real shame. So there is still hope to correct all that went utterly wrong with her recent up-bringing until now.

To be the crown princess has obviously given Adamah the delusion of grandeur and invincibility.

“There is no point in denying your grandfather,” I move on sternly. “He is the kindest and most able man that ever crossed my path. You should be proud at being his descendant. Especially after all the heartbreak that your grandmother Tamisra caused him.”

A rebellious sparkle lights Adamah's features. “She should not have slept with a common slave. That is not like a queen should behave. She should have done better like that. A slave. Queens do not share their beds with slave boys.”

I carefully put an unwilling Grianán down. Then I saunter down the stairs.

“He is not a slave. He is a person. And his name is Narthex.”

I have all the time in the world. Adamah has nowhere to run.

“You, my child, are to call him grandfather in future. Or even better: sire.”

“You cannot force me! You, who is also just a slave.” Adamah gazes at me, hot with anger once more. If I ever had need of a lighter for fire wood, I would know where to seek it. “I am the daughter of a queen.”

For many heartbeats none of us speaks.

Éleos jumps out of the way when I start smiling. That smile never reaches my eyes.

“You are wrong once more, Missy. Narthex is a gentleman of means, loyally serving the man he grew up with. And I am of noble blood as much as you are. I just agreed on the position as the royal nanny because I truly believed it would change you for the better. To turn you into the head of state that your people need. Not my best performance until now, I fear.”

I reach out for Adamah's long, brown hair without any difficulties. My fist closes around it.

For pride, there is only one way of healing. To become what one most fears.

“Your brother Éleos here can be quite the philosopher. You know one of the very wise mantras that he came up with recently?”

I do not mind her screaming and squirming under my still rather relaxed grip. Nor do I get excited about the curious Shesha popping up between the trees.

There are also smaller faces among the bushes. The rest of the royal spawn gives itself the honour of an audience: Caelestris, Sereno, Phosphoros, Iocus, Blandita, Rubio, Daná and Calathus.

“Listen to me now, Princess Adamah Arcānā Tjiehenet, for I hate to repeat myself. _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._ ”

Éleos frowns at my words.

“Let me explain how I understand these words: A member of the royal household, strong in the Force or not does not matter, _must be circumspect and try to understand the world that is surrounding him. That ignorance does not exist is, of course, a flat-out lie or gross misunderstanding.. Simply ignoring facts that do not fit with one's viewpoint is equally foolhardy. It maybe become a goal though: Ignorance is a part of life_ but it can be lifted... so let me enlighten you.”

I drag Adamah with me, not caring about the tantrum she makes. Nobody dares to come near us or separate us.

********************************************************************

Ombra gives me a surprised look, when I arrived at her village heartbeats before dusk. I lead a screaming and kicking Adamah by her hair.

Everybody is sitting out in the evening sun and they are sharing a meal together. The rainy season is soon to come. Doing things together as a clan will be more and more important now.

“Ave!”

I give Ombra the very formal greeting that a woman of her high position as the village mother deserves.

The dauphine is forced to go on her knees with me as well, screaming even more.

“Greetings, Exulted One. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Marquise Isabeau Riwalan. Daughter of the desert sea of Sapuhru and royal nanny to the god queen.”

Ombra sets down the wooden bowl she was eating from. Her face is a full mask of politeness and self-control. It is as if she had just swallowed her amusement down with her Setaria porridge.

“I know that you are powerful, mighty Ombra,...” I go on, sounding utterly respectful and matter-of-fact.

A quick side glance at Adamah tells me that the girl has no idea who she is facing and where I always spend my holidays.

Speaking aloud again, I say,”... and that Your anger with Her Royal Highness the god queen of Cunabula must be equally powerful.”

The eyes of the entire village are on me by now, young and old folk alike. They all know who my charge is. Some heads even turn towards the nearby hill, fearing a herd of rancors ridding down to bring death and destruction.

“I seek an audience with Your Greatness concerning very urgent and important matters of mine,” I move on.

“I knew it all along. You are a traitor! The worst kind of traitor there is!” Adamah explodes. “You sneaked into all of our hearts all those sun years and now you show your true face. You planned this all along, you filthy cat.”

Actually, I am very sad that I have not come up with this desperate education plan any sooner.

A future god queen needs good judgement and a clear head, free from pride and prejudice. Is there no sense and sensibility in that girl at all?

What has she been doing with the time given to her? Reading books unsuitable for her?

How can she rule if she really believes me to sell her to an enemy?

Adamah does not even know her own society. There is no slavery on Draconis any more.

I do my best not to sigh, even though I am utterly vexed. “With your wisdom, I am sure we can work out an arrangement...,” I address Ombra again, “...which will be mutually beneficial... and enable us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation.”

My old friend gives me a knowing look. If anybody is good at nurturing and educating a child, it is her. She has a bunch of children of her own, fine specimen that she can be very proud of.

Right now I am not very proud at all. Two of the royal serpent-spawn have let me down today. Éleos even more than his twin-sister. Using the Force for cheap mind-tricks is inexcusable.

I draw up my shoulders. “As a token of my goodwill, I represent to you a gift- this girl here.”

Adamah want to jump up at that, but I continue to hold her firmly in my grip.

“She is hard-working and will serve you well.”

Ombra´s deep laughter fills the village campus. She understands.

It is an unfair and dirty trick played on the _dauphine_ , but I have no other choice. Some lessons need to be learned the hard way.

A wild eopie has to be broken before it can be ridden properly.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

It takes seven sun weeks for my message to Adamah to sink in. To sum up all the incidents before she showed respectable manners would be too much.

There had been a lot of secret meetings with Ombra, Agathos and Narthex in the evenings. All of them at save distance from the village.

During her daughter's absence Arcānā had not intervened. Her clear interest is to leave a skilled successor, especially when this particular child of hers is Force-blind.

I gaze into the landscape, drenched by rain.

The rain period demands a lot from all the inhabitants of Sendero, including Adamah.

Ombra's people are on the move with their herds of bantha and eopies. We travel to the very edge of the Colour Desert, where the richest grass will grow soon.

It is a journey that changes everything for the future queen of the realm. The hard physical work does Adamah good. Her awareness of her importance as part of a community grows. She sees to all her tasks and she masters them well.

I watch the girl from a distance. Like a lioness hiding in clever ways and yet never letting go. I reveal my presence around dusk.

Adamah runs towards me like little Grianán would. When she is finally aware that the village is standing around us, she lets go of me.

Ombra marches up towards us. I am not very surprised when she gives the girl the royal greeting.

Adamah is stunned and speechless.

“Now you can go home, princess, and never forget that a queen always serves her people as well as she can. She is the only true servant in the realm and therefore everybody else volunteers to help her with her heavy burden. This is why we loved your grandmother, this is why we never would betray your mother and why we did welcome you to live along us.”

Feelings move over the young face of my protégé as quickly as the rain clouds. At last a shy, but honest smile stays. “And for that very welcome and a chance to grow, I thank you with all my heart.”

To my relief she bows in front of us all.

Not even the arrival of her mother in all her royal splendour destroys the magic of the moment.

********************************************************************

The term rancor describes _“a feeling of deep and bitter anger and ill-will; hatred; malice”_. But actually this description does not suit the three mounts the god queen has brought along.

I regard the large reptilian carnivores as creatures of grace, good-will and absolute loyalty.

Arcānā usually is the bitter one. Perhaps all those Midi-chlorians in her body make her react this way.

After a tender reunification with her mother, I help Adamah to mount her own rancor. “You are a filthy cat, after all then,” the girl whispers, when she passes by. “But very clever. Remind me to never make you that upset with me again, Isa.”

One lesson learned, another one still out in the open. As a royal nanny the work never ends.

“You could not have chosen a better and more spectacular moment to show up, Your Highness,” I address the god queen. “It seems that the rain season just decided to end.”

Arcānā seems strangely at ease. Her face has a healthy colour and her eyes are her own. No dark side shadows lurk in them. “I love sunsets,” she smiles. “After watching the sun go down over the river valley of Cunabula, I thought that I might like to have another one.”

“Did you now, queeny?” I mutter softly, wondering if she can control the weather like the legendary Celestrials.

“Actually, we will have another sunset in a totally different surrounding soon.”

“And where might that be?” I dread the answer, but I cannot escape it.

“We have an invitation to Amnion from Agathos family. My advisers tell me not to make a state affair out of it and go as a family visiting her in-laws.”

“Has your rancor eaten today?” Cold sweat runs over my spine. “Mine certainly could eat some of your advisers. Amnion, _sacre bleu_! Visiting a water planet!”

********************************************************************

It is not the fish that I mind. I can live with eating them once in a while. Narthex, now in his fifties, is a magician when it comes to exotic and delicious fish dishes. I always eat when he prepares something with love and skill. Never have I come to regret it.

I also like the salty air of Amnions world wide ocean, called Fontis. The smell reminds me of the L'œil du ciel back home.

What I really dislike during our stay at the city state of Polysýndeton is the ocean itself. It terrifies me. There is no way to measure the masses of water that surround us.

Beneath the waves there is a world that I do not know or understand. There are enemies that I cannot see. I know they are there, lurking in the dark, patient, hungry and ever watchful.

_Since our arrival on Amnion I have had several visions about two human men and an orange skinned alien creature who were all cramped together in some kind of under water boat. They were attacked by various monsters of the deep sea, one larger than the other. Luckily, they escaped, for each hunter had to face a future as meal of a much bigger opponent in the end._

What if the far away future is not so far away as my visions want to make me believe?

Would those deep sea monsters attack me and the children on a normal cruise out on the water? A cruise that their overenthusiastic host and his family insist on?

Agathos and Narthex seem to notice my distress when the three of us stand at the banister on the large veranda. Outside our guest quarters they enjoy the movement of the waves fifty meters below us. Both men are fully at ease, travellers that have come home for a while to dwell on things dear to them.

“Look, Isa!” Agathos smiles at me. “The great mother river of Cunabula is no comparison to the stunning beauty of the ocean. Fontis is always in motion, even when it seems to lie still, there is movement below the surface.”

When I look down, trying to be polite, my stomach clenches.

I close my eyes and keep them shut, pressing one hand to my mouth.

Agathos keeps speaking, “Sometimes the ocean shows us a tender water ballet and then again it turns into a destructive force.”

Suddenly, there is another stormy ocean in front of my inner eye.

I had seen the future vision coming, but I am not able to stop it.

_Long necked alien creatures, that possess an Elfin grace, move through a city of light. The floors and walls seem alive. Contained in glass tubes, embryos mature into boyhood. There are entire hallways being filled with them. The aliens take care that all the human boys learn all that there is to know about being warriors._

“Cloners”, I whisper to myself, my voice overruled by the noises of the ocean. ”They are bloody cloners.”

_And there is one man, existing more than a billion times. A fighter, ruthless and cunning. His legacy will be a deadly one to the Children of the Force. After their demise the galaxy will be a much darker place._

My knees give in. The iron banister is of little substance to my claws.

A pair of strong hands grasps my shoulders and support the rest of my body.

“I fear the Marquise is not well,” Narthex informs his master.

I nod slowly and then I let all the contains of my stomach out, hoping it ends up on the head of one of the deep sea monsters.

********************************************************************

After collapsing on a sun chair, I am offered a glass of water. “The sea... it makes me sick,” I explain.

“That much we guessed already,” Narthex muses, pulling me more water. “But I reckon there is more behind it, my dearest Isabeau.”

I give a weak wave with my hand, my real hand. Not the mechanical one that I have since the events surrounding Aréte's death. “I told you guys before that the visions come and go. Some things make sense, some don't.”

Narthex hovers above me with a blanket, putting it over my shivering body. “Was there anything about the ocean that did concern you?”

Then, out of the depths of my mind the monsters of the deep sea rise again. They look even more horrific than ever before. “Pray, are there Opee Sea Killers, Colo Claw Fish and Sando Aqua Monsters in this ocean?”

Both men blink at me in confusion, so I start to describe every detail of those creatures. I gesture lively, using hand and feet.

The blanket slips off my body again and my sickness is forgotten.

There is an unnerving silence when I finish. “Well?”

My question does not possess the effect that I hoped for.

They laugh.

They laugh until the tears from their eyes get lost in their black, bushy beards.

I give my best to appear cool and aloof, feeling younger than nineteen. Actually, I feel as old as the second serpent-spawn: five sun years of age.

Agathos is the first to recover his voice. Still shaking with laughter, he says, “There is nothing down there that comes close to those creatures that you saw with your clairvoyance.”

I raise an eyebrow, staring.

“To be honest, there was nothing at all in the vast ocean before the star ship of our ancestors arrived here. Minor plant life, yes. And some bacteria. So our people started to populate this water world with all the specimen that once existed on Terra.”

My hand fly to my mouth, but this time I only get sick with one single thought, “You are also cloners?”

This accusation makes the men giggle almost girlishly.

For me there is nothing funny about the subject.

Now it is Narthex who finally answers me. “Well, our scientists happen to know a lot about maritime life and genetic engineering. See, the Hydris was the only star ship that actually arrived on the very spot it was supposed to. The Draconis... well you know her history all too well.”

The sun system that I live in is nothing more than a construction by some bored scientists. “The right place,” I mutter dejectedly.

In front of us the sun is still on her lazy rise from her ocean bed. For me it seems that she takes some extra time here. Perhaps she feels more like being on holidays like I do.

The soft humming of an electrical door is followed by the tapping of little feet.

I open my arms and let Grianán jump into them. “Bonjour, ma petité!”

”Bonjouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuur!” the five sun year old shrieks back happily.

Agathos exchanges a look with his secret father-in-law. The valet nods. “Isa, what about having breakfast in town?” he addresses me. “Just the three of us, while the rest of the family is still asleep?”

The last thing that is on my mind right now is food.

“They also sell café at the market.” Narthex grins, showing most of his perfect and shiny teeth. “Black and without sugar. The way the locals love it.”

I grant the two men a big smile.

The taste in my mouth is not the best after the outburst of my stomach. I am grateful that my sari is still clean and nicely in order.

Grianán claps her hands, making a wee-sound. Only now do I notice that she is not wearing her nightgown any longer. She is fully dressed with sandals and all. Even her hair is combed. Something told me that had accomplished that all by herself.

“The Force is strong in you, little one.”

Not for the first time I wonder how quick and clever that girl is.

The third line of the Force mantra, that Éleos had come up with a while ago, crosses my mind: “Passion, yet serenity.”

None of the royal children impersonate those words better than Grianán does. In situations of extreme stress, in which her mother Arcānā might be tempted to react strongly, she stays calm.

Grianán is always focused on her tasks and not on the goal itself. Even though she is able to use her Force powers in defence, I do not fail to notice that she constantly keeps other options open. She seems to observe before reacting. Her young mind is not clouded with the unbridled passion that is so common within the women of her family.

I pat the curly hair that frames her head. In the morning sun her locks glitter like pure gold. Grianán, this is truly a name that fits her pure and shiny nature. I hope with all my heart that Mórag MagUidhir will not extinguish that light forever.

“Then let's go, gentlemen!” I suggest. “I do not wish to add more persons to this family excursion if I can prevent it.”

*******************************************************************

Polysýndeton is an architectural miracle. The city state rests on nine mighty steal columns. Those columns reach down four thousand feet. They are ready to deal with any kind of tension the ocean provides.

In addition the city is anchored to the bottom of the sea with cables tethered like the spokes of a wheel. Very able deflector shields protect the entire construction from gales and mega waves.

From Agathos and Narthex, keen on being my tour guides, I come to know that the city is able to free itself from the constraints and swim away when there is the danger of an underwater volcanic eruption.

“It was never necessary so far here, but our neighbours in Ephípher had to use that technology twice over the past hundred standard years.” Agathos tells me when we reach the large piazza – the very heart of Polysýndeton.

By this time I know all that there is to know about the inhabitants of Amnion. My head is swimming with information. A state that I have not achieved for a very long time. Solitaire, the specially bred and trained clone of royal blood, has been the last person doing that to me.

“So let me see if I got it right,” I say aloud to please both men. “Your people get their electricity out of the solar energy that is stored in the ocean. But the tides themselves also have something called gravitation energy. This is what your scientists call green energy.”

Two greying heads nod happily at me.

“The inhabitants of the eight city states live off the maritime life and water plants, but in addition they have biological laboratories, private green houses and there is of course the interstellar trade with other planets in this sun system.”

For a very brief instant I feel like a little girl again, repeating all my learnt lessons to a patiently listening Luçien.

My heart gives a pang.

Luçien, my step-brother. Once beloved and now my greatest enemy.

A relationship so utterly altered.

“All in all,” I quickly give to consider, “I think I truly earned my _café_ now.”

Narthex cues up at one of the market stands before my last word is spoken.

And Agathos is off to purchase breakfast snacks for all of us at another stand. I have no clue what it all is, but it smells delicious.

Once in a while I have an urgent hunger for sweets. Having feline ancestors makes me a gourmet by birth right.

********************************************************************

We all sit down at the steps of a massive stair case, that lead right up to the temple of Parhelion. His priests claim that he is the one and only true god.

The more I learn about his religion, the more I get confused. Things do not seem to be right. Half-breeds are not accepted by his followers. The power of creation has been given to mankind only. There is no mention of the essential balance or of sharing goods with other beings.

I sip my black _café_ thoughtfully.

Out in the desert one knows all enemies and allies. Here on Amnion such knowledge seems to be a totally different matter.

Praying is also complicated. The temples of the twin moon goddesses on Sapuhru are the Houses of Healing. Each stone city of the hamada has one. In the erg every movement at night is a prayer. Every drop of water cherished, every breath is thanking the goddesses. Loving one's family and the animals is a religious act, too.

I watch Grianán cleaning first her grandfather's beard from cake crumbs and then her father's. Her stern face is almost comical.

How can old Techné Aletheia be a keen supporter of a religion that views her own grand-children as freaks of nature? As unclean creatures and abominations?

My last meeting with Mórag MagUidhir flashes back into my consciousness. She called desert nomads _'a bunch of child thieves'_ and I had given her that compliment back.

The truth is that my mother's tribe had taken children and grown-ups hostage now and then. It is a custom being born out of necessity.

In times of thirst and hunger mothers are often forced to take desperate measures. A child once laid to rest in the arms of the desert is never to come back, but is well cared for eternally.

To honour its sacrifice and help the clan to prosper again, new members are sought. In contrast to babies or toddlers being caught, grown-ups had to undergo harsh physical trials in order to prove their ability to survive life in the desert. Only the toughest ones, overcoming their injuries, are welcomed into the tribe.

_The woman is bound to the traditional trial chair. She is not young any more, has given birth long ago. There are beginnings of silver threads in her dark brown hair. Her humble clothing is dirty and partly ripped. She has three large cuts in her sweaty face. One coming from her scalp, one following the line of the right eyebrow and one splits her right cheek. Her upper lip has a cut and there is one at the corner of her mouth, too. The wounds on her back, made by a whip, are badly infected. She will not make it._

_Water is reserved for the living only. It will not be wasted on her. Everybody in the camp knows that her time has come. She is not one of them, yet they want her to softly wane away with her fever dreams. It is better for her. She will not survive the journey back to her moisture farm._

_In the beginning she seemed a promising candidate, hard working and with an air of lightness around her. As a former slave she is lean and her body strong from daily farm work. They watched her for a long time, before they considered taking her._

_The husband is too old for their purpose, the son is fat with water._

_She had come out just before dawn, eager to pick mushrooms that grow on the cursed vaporators. A hunting party had taken her with them._

_There had been hard losses among the tribe. Those off-landers, arriving one or two generations ago, have taken land without asking, even demanding a high blood price for it. They are the true animals. The Way has been disturbed by them. Nothing seems holy to them. Neither water nor the desert itself. Things are out of balance ever since their arrival._

_The local space port is no problem though, nor are the frog and his scum. Those bandits are at least valuable business partners._

_A healer is only sent to a patient when it was worth her time. This woman is waiting for death. It will arrive on silent feet walking stealthily over the dunes._

_In the end death will come to all of them._

Grianán makes a shrill sound.

_There is no escape._

_He is everywhere. His weapon of light moves faster than they can run away. He does not care whom he strikes down in his cold rage._

_The women and the children die the same way as the warriors. He makes no exceptions. There is not much blood. The heat of his sabre cauterizes the wounds._

_Nearby banthas, being tied to their posts, scream aloud in agony, not able to help their masters._

_The entire tribe is erased by the scorn of a young man. He sneaked into their midst like a walking ghost, a phantom of the dune sea._

_His shadow will grow and darken the entire universe at one point._

_They should not have taken his mother. There will be no forgiveness, just more blood and death._

_An angel has fallen, but it had been his choice._

By now the cries of my little ward have gotten more hysteric.

Lost in my visions of the future I spilled my hot coffee on her sandals.

I jump up from the ebony stair and fling the crying child into my arms. Muttering sweet nonsense into her ears, I curse myself for getting lost in the future.

_“Just focus on the now and here,”_ Grianán sniffs.

I stare at her wide eyed. Even though I hold a small child in my arms, I can feel a great representative of the Force standing in front of me.

_“Size matters not!”_ the young princess answers and the way she put her words reminds me of a certain green imp with Elfin ears.

Agathos and Narthex look at me confused and slightly helpless.

I make Grianán comfortable on my artificial arm, that will not get tired too soon. “Let us go back now! I bet Arcānā and the rest of the family is up by now, wondering where we have gone.”

“Second breakfast!” Grianán announces with a grin. “More kok, please!”

“You had enough chocolate rolls already.” Her grandfather reminds her, smiling sweetly. “You will have a serious stomach problem if you go on like this.”

“Then kataifi, please! Caramel and vanilla.” Grianán beams from ear to ear. “Not chocolate. No stomach pain.”

I roll my eyes and Agathos does just the same.

Highly accomplished in the Force or not, Grianán is a child with the same urges and flaws that normal children have.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18:**

In order to return to the villa of Senator Kairos Aletheia we use a hand full of short cuts. The labyrinth of streets and small side paths remind me painfully of Montségur.

There is a huge difference though. A sea of plants, mostly voluptuous flowers grow here at Polysýndeton: hortensias, dahlias, roses, magnolias, camellias, fresias. Their scent makes me rather dizzy.

The inhabitants of this city state love to keep the steel and glass construction as green as possible. Balconies, verandas, roof top gardens and window seats house plants.

The love for green life should have connected the humans of Amnion with the Ophidiae, but unfortunately they just magnify the things that separate them. If there is ever a war, it will be a very dirty one.

The city has become much more busy since our breakfast. It reminds me of the activity of a bee hive. Once I had dropped one by accident in the jungle. It had been a painful experience. My skin still remembers every single sting that it had collected back then.

Right now it is just people in togas swarming around, walking fast and hectic. There is no danger for me, or for my two male companions, but I fear for Grianán. She is so petité. Her trustful hand rests in my own. Now and then she looks up and gives me one of her bright smiles. My little sun princess.

Every morning Grianán stands outside of her mother's lofty and spacious bedroom in the royal pyramid, waiting for me to appear on duty. Dawn seems to tickle her out of bed. Usually, she is up before anybody else is. It warms my heart to watch her bathing in the first sun rays that come to meet her.

Recently her elder brother Éleos has told me that she is a blessed being, one of the few who are able to be one with the Living Force.

There was no greed in Grianán, just peace. Would Mórag MagUhidir change her for good? The life of an adept of the Order of the beanmna feasa is so different from that of a royal princess.

Ever since I learned what has befallen the god queen in her early childhood I am very fearful for Grianán. All those trials. The rituals. Dangerous knowledge. And the many burdens that each adept carries for herself.

How can the girl go on being herself once her training starts? And even if she earns her marque and is allowed to return to her family, the Holy Inquisition can and ask for her services at any time.

A warm breeze, coming from the ocean below us, strokes over my face, almost in mockery of my deep concerns.

In order to survive, the haggard and pale Sleah Maith had drawn back to harsh places such as the mountain regions of Vallum Ventii and the Montes Nubii. The ice and snow had stopped their enemies from going after them at first. But then the god queens and their Midi-chlorians had opened their hearts to the dark side.

At about the same time the scientists of Cunabula had come up with more solutions that had been fateful as well. The usage of xocolatl in sacred rituals had been perverted beyond any means. And my own race had come into being. An army bred to conquer and kill. To obey without any questions.

I still keep brooding about the unchangeable and bloody past, when we finally arrive in front of the Aletheia villa.

********************************************************************

The large breakfast room is inhabited with Senator Kairos Aletheia, his wife Calothrix, his mother Techné and the rest of the royal bunch from Draconis.

When the white doors shut behind me, I have a future vision again.

_A human man is staring at a long table in horror. The table is set for a company of plenty, but there is just a lonely figure in some sort of battle armour waiting for them._

_This warrior is dressed in black._

_Strange bolts of fire shoot through the air, but the man in black catches them all in his gloved hands._

_Finally, the weapon flies towards him._

_“We would be honoured if you would join us”, a mechanical voice hisses underneath the helmet._

My breathing becomes a problem for me. It is as if hot sand is running through my chest, filling my lungs.

I feel trapped for no reason. My life is a bitter farce. It has been stolen away from me. Only anger keeps me alive, lets me forget the pain at times.

Grianán flinches, her eyes wide open. “Keep him away!” she whispers so low that only I can catch her tiny voice. “He is the Fallen One! The child murderer.”

_“I'm sorry!”_ I whisper back.

_“I'm sorry, too,”_ she answers unhappily, knowing as much as I that parts of our conversation will echo into the future. Two old friends will be upset with one another. And will fear that man in black. He is the herald of destruction.

Suddenly, Grianán runs towards her grandmother, instantly japing on about our adventures in the city. The flow of words that comes out of her little mouth is amazing. Even I have difficulty to follow, but her sweet gibberish distracts me from the aftermath of my vision.

Whoever the black warrior is, whenever he will exist: he is not with us right now. His shadow will not fall on us. I will take care that the dark side will find no fertile ground in the souls of my serpent-spawn.

Grianán talks and talks as if her life depends on it.

I witness the stern look of the elderly Techné melt away very quickly. She reaches out for the child and places Grianán on her lap, her arthritis forgotten.

********************************************************************

For the next sun hour Grianán sits on her grandmother's lap like a little queen on a throne. She enlightens the entire family and the bemused personnel that serves us.

When the girl finally falls silent, Arcānā is gazing at her intently. “So you enjoyed yourself, _bella_.”

Grianán nods eagerly.

I can tell from the voice of the god queen that an entire story lies underneath her words. Agathos knows his wife equally well. “So you had stormy weather?” he asks.

”There was this little tornado that splattered our luggage all over the apartment. I felt like giving out a warning to the neighbouring cities, but Calothrix stopped me doing so. She had her own way of handling the tornado. Isabeau would have done something differently.”

Daná makes a dark face. With her fork she turns her breakfast roll into a mashed substance in no time.

I smirk.

Why am I not surprised? Perhaps this man in black also will have her as one of his ancestors without knowing. Each of the royal princess and princesses is a child of the Force.

But something deep inside me, the whisper of desert sand, tells me that Grianán will determine a lot: The fate of her race. The changes that will come upon my people. The history of mankind in the universe.

“The princess. You have to take care of her.”

The human man speaks with a very insistent voice to his hairy companion. The creature grunts its answer, but is in awe and as much distressed as a bantha, that is about to loose his master.

“Do you hear me?” The human repeats patiently. Red lights are dancing on his face. There is smoke or some kind of fog everywhere.

Since we have entered this water world, my visions have intensified. I do not like it a single bit.

My people look occasionally into the past with stories in order to honour their roots.

Out there in the open desert you better live in the here and now.

The future is just a shadow of things that might come. Nothing is certain. Things shift and change constantly.

I see no reason to put that complicated puzzle together. No, I am the maker of my own destiny. Each of my actions and choices will come back to me. That I know with the full awareness of a former desert inhabitant.

“You were in the city without any bodyguard?” Senator Kairos Aletheia looks deeply troubled. A nervous flicker dances in his eyes.

“Bodyguard? Is that a new kind of fashion?” Agathos smiles.

“A man in your position should not take any risks. Especially when he has children like you do.”

“I grew up here, dear brother. I do not think that either Grianán, Narthex or the Marquise Riwalan were in any danger either.” Agathos gives me a quick glance and looks back at his brother. “You are overreacting.”

“The past standard years a lot changed, Agathos. There are more and more sea tang farmers demanding subventions from the senate. The fishers are also not very pleased with the development of the market. They also blame us, the senators. Senator Caesarion was murdered recently in front of the senate building.”

“Indeed?” Agathos raises an eyebrow and starts scratching his beard.

Techné seems non-pulsed. “No politics in front of the children.”

I swallow my laughter with a big sip from my café mug.

There is no point in keeping secrets in a family of telepaths. How little their own grandmother knows about those rascals gathered here at the table! I bet my wards even tune into my bewildering visions of the future at times, wondering about them more than I ever do.

“I beg you pardon, dear mother.” Agathos turns to his eldest. “Well then, _filius_ , what did you do in our absence?”

Éleos has this kind of glow around him, that makes him seem serene beyond his age. “Granny invited me to her bedchamber. She has her own shrine there. With a small bowl of holy water. We prayed the morning greetings to Parhelion together.”

I concentrate on my _café_ , taking greater sips from the mug. If I cannot stand one subject at breakfast than it is religion. Speaking about Parhelion, the proclaimed one and only god, is even worse.

Sereno musters me thoughtfully. Then he blurs out, “Uncle Kairos let me use his refractor. We saw a whale shark through it. He was very big and had many white dots on his black back. But the belly, that is completely white.”

As if I would care about the marine life around here. My only concern is the security of the children.

Both Sereno and Èleos look hurt about my lack of enthusiasm for whale sharks.

I shrug briefly, getting more and more lost in my café mug. This is heavenly strong stuff.

“... Isabeau?”

All eyes in the room rest on me.

“Yes?” I ask very uncertain. Somehow I have missed something essential.

It is Adamah who was speaking to me anxiously. “What do you think?”

“About what?” I bark back, clutching to the mug.

These silly visions are bad for my concentration. I am losing track of a lot of things.

“The boat tour!” a choir of children voices shouts back.

The mug slips out of my fingers and smashes to the ground, leaving an ugly mess on the white carpet. “Boat tour?”

“Yes, all of us,” beams Adamah, while the rest of her siblings smirk.

Blasted telepaths! I hate it when they do that. They seem on a mission to help me overcome all my fears. Whether I like it or not.

The smiles around me widen.

********************************************************************

As an adopted daughter of the House Ankoù I have seen boats, ships, tankers and submarines before. There had been holographic pictures and films about them in my father's possession. He had wanted all his children to be well educated. To see things with one's own eyes was a different thing though.

The yacht of Senator Kairos Aletheia is not the biggest one in the harbour. It is astonishingly humble. The wood furnishing gives it a rather rustic edge. It has real cotton-made sails on its mast.

I actually like what I see.

There will be no problem. All will be save. Apart from me that is.

Last night I had my grimmest vision ever. I had seen my own death. It had been awful. I had drowned. It had been so painful to draw breath.

Daná runs over the small railway straight on to the yacht. In no time she claims the mast, waving to all of us. Her sapphire green tunic flies in the breeze like a little flag. “Ahoy! Ahoy! Ahoy!” she calls out.

The yacht softly bobs up and down, subject to the waves.

My throat turns tight.

There is a limit to everything.

“No,” I state simply, my voice calmer than my soul.

“Isa!” the children shriek all at once. They are outraged. Even Grianán.

I look at each of them, long and intense. “My answer is still no. You cannot make me go. Especially not with your dirty little mind tricks.”

Over the past sun years I have witnesses the serpent-spawn using the Force on weak minded beings, or on those who had no Force abilities at all. They might look innocent, especially the young ones, but their mother has given them a dangerous reptile heritage after all. They are all predators.

To have me as the royal nanny has been a good chess move by the god queen. Due to me her children grow up with a conscience after all.

“My lords, milady, Narthex.” I gave all the grown-ups a curt nod. “Have a pleasant day. I will be back at dusk.”

I turn around on my heels and stride off as fast as I can.

My heart feels like a big lump of melted wax. Not able to beat any longer.

********************************************************************

I made my way back to the villa, taking time. The bizarre metal shades and glass architecture of Polysýndeton are pleasant to look at. Therefore I re-visit the market square and have another café at one of the stands.

Then I cue up with a bunch of tourists and take a stroll through the senate halls of Polysýndeton.

Next, I admire the ivory inside of the city hall.

When I am at the harbour again, I hear words that unsettle me.

“The crown princess needs to die.”

I slide behind some transport containers and hide.

Through a gap I watch five human men. Judging by their intense smell and their grubby looks, four of them are in the fish industry.

Their leader though is a totally different matter. He smells of candle wax, incense and old papyrus. His tunic is spotless, his expressive hands soft.

“The almighty, generous Parhelion has given the means of healing and the gift of eternal life only to mankind. He has mercy on us and all his people in perilous times, where delusion and lack of faith interfere so much and threaten everything.

Being ignited by the light of His grace, we are chosen by Parhelion. We recognize that faith is the greatest treasure that His love grants to us here on Amnion.

Only faith is the root of all judgement and without it nobody can please Him.”

A preacher of the worst kind. Why are those men listening to him?

I stay for Adamah's sake.

“Therefore, confiding unto his mild charity, I am ready to conform to him, the only true faith.”

I smirk.

Talks like that always have been tiresome to me.

Out there in the dune sea of Sapuhru every single breath is a prayer. The desert turns you into a very grateful and religious being. It can teach you so much. This is why I had sent Adamah to the village Sendero recently. These men here do not even know about all the trials that the young princess has gone through.

“And following the good example of His holy martyrs we should give away all earthly things, even life itself, instead of losing this worthy treasure and inestimable gift of heaven.”

“This is madness, Triptychon!” exclaims one of the fishermen.

“Oh merciful Parhelion, preserve and strengthen us all at all times in our believes and grant them to those, who, blended by passions and prejudices, do not recognize the worth of true fate, those like Brother Acheron.”

The addressed fisherman flushes like a little boy, which seems ridiculous for a person of his enormous hight.

“Heptan, Porphyr and Kalomel”, the priest named Triptychon goes on firmly, “I hope the three of you are not in danger of getting shipwrecked with your faith. Please join me in prayer for our brother in faith Acheron. He seems to be in the diaspora now. Due to his sea journeys he was not able to join our regular gatherings. Parhelion may give him righteousness to do all that is needful for the true faith.”

“But she is just a child,” Acheron protests softly, his face still reddish.

“That is no child. It is a snake in human form. A serpent-spawn like the rest of that demonic race.”

“We will not be able to kill them all. So let us concentrate on the crown princess only, for now.”

“The Force unleashed!” I mutter to myself.

“If we are lucky the heathen queen will declare war on our nation,” Triptychon promises.

Luck is to die without any complications within a heart beat. Considering the huge weapon arsenal in the womb of Cunabula this planet should pray for a very quick death indeed.

“The first law of Parhelion is: Thou shall have no other gods apart from me. Yet the current regent of Draconis dares to call herself god queen and raises her spawn in pagan falsity.“

By now I have gathered enough evidence to wipe them out for good. Nobody ever needs to know about this conspiracy.

“We should kill Senator Aletheia as well,” Triptychon states.

Getting rid of Kairos might be a blessing. I dislike that unnerving man very, very much. He always manages to say the wrong things. I do not understand why the children are still polite to their uncle.

“The holy scrolls teaches us: everybody who gets intimate with an animal should be punished to the extreme.”

Realizing that they mean Agathos and not his younger brother turns my mood bleak. I really need to stop these fanatics.

“The senator is not to blame,” argues the womp-rat faced Heptan in the meantime. “This dark witch has used her unnatural powers on him. He is not to blame. His daughter Adamah though carries her mother's guilt in her. She is a young snake that needs to be smashed.”

Smashing is indeed a good idea. Skulls crack very interestingly when you steer them against a solid surface.

A gloved hand reaches out for my throat.

“Don't!” Luçien whispers into my ear.

Then a shadow darkens the sun.

********************************************************************

I dread opening my eyes. The stench already warns me of what I will see. The midday sun shines annoyingly through my closed lids.

“Isabeau, I know you are awake. Your breathing betrays you.”

It is not that I am afraid of facing Luçien and I am straight forward about it. “I prefer not to look at you,” I answer my step-brother coldly. “And I would welcome it if you would stop staring at me non-stop. It bothers me.”

For so many sun years I have managed brilliantly without him. Now he is back in my life. Whatever he is up to, I am sure I will not like the prospect of it. He has proven before that his morals are twisted.

“You have changed a great deal since I last saw you.” His voice is half sad and half admiring. “The spoiled little girl as turned into a self-aware...”

“You will find out that I am still a lot of trouble to you,” I interrupt his musing impatiently.

The sound of the waves around us costs me a great deal of extra strength. The knowledge that bottomless water is encircling me like a hungry monster is terrifying. This is not my beloved salt lake, where I know every inch. I am dealing with a world-wide ocean of a foreign planet.

He distracts me from my fear, keen to keep our conversation going. “What happened to your arm? Is that a prosthetic, Isabeau? Why did you leave it bare? That must be awful in the jungle or high in the mountains. You could have artificial skin growing over the metal and all those dreadful wires, neatly covering them.”

“Mind you, it is a weapon still – not the arm of an invalid!” I wish with all my might to jump straight into his face and bite off his nose. “I like it the very way it is. Are we finished with the interview yet? Or do you feel like inquiring after all of my battle injuries?”

His laugh is warm and light. Unwanted, memories of my youth stir in me. “You have too many scars, Isabeau. It would take hours to even mention them all. And you are not in a very talkative mood.”

“Guess why that is!” I bark. “Do me the favour, mind reader!”

I feel him nearby and bite on my tongue. Then I spit blood straight into his face. It is the ultimate challenge among our people. He is now officially invited to get the rest of my water if he dares. I will not make it easy for him though.

“I do not wish for a feud with you, Isabeau.”

“Do not use my name that often,” I suggest bitterly. “It wears out this way.”

Luçien touches my left cheek softly. He wears no leather gloves. I also can hear no rustling of robes. That makes me quite uncomfortable.

“I did not mean to harm you,” he insures me, cooing almost.

“Well, it is far too late for that, Luçien,” I smirk. “You did not leave the best impression with all that you pulled today. Consider me harmed.”

“I just fear that you will hurt yourself if I cut you loose.”

“You are so pathetic and self-righteous.”

His friendliness towards me does not make me forget all his evil deeds to bring order and peace to the galaxy.

My mind races to put the pieces together.

“Agathos is one of your best friends. How can you do that to him?” The rope cuts deep into my only real arm.

“I will do nothing to him,” Luçien insists. Behind his calm façade I felt anger rising. “It is their ability to make choices that make his children dangerous. Arcānā has meddled too much with the Force and the DNA of various races.”

“Who are you to be their judge?”

Luçien has underestimated the strength of my prosthetic arm. I can hear him breathe in deep while I jerk myself free on one side.

My eyes snap open.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

We face one another like the generals of an army. Again it is Luçien who cannot bear the silence between us for too long. “You care too much for those children to be able to make a clear judgement about the situation,” he points out to me.

I frown, because I realize that I am looking at a total stranger. Even his eye colour is wrong. “What happened to you?”

“Oh that.” He shrugs casually. “I needed to blend in.”

In front of my eyes, Luçien changes back to the man that I know: tall, copper skin, dark, curly hair, intense blue eyes. Yet there is a darkness in him that he is not fully aware of, that he cannot hide.

“Are you aware that something went wrong when you tried to destroy the holocron?”

“Nothing is wrong with me!” he roars. “And I destroyed that evil tool!”

“I see,” I purr. “For me it was just an innocent learning device. You made it into something it never was. It was you who made it evil.”

He storms towards me like a mad bantha bull, but I just move aside, laughing. “What now, Luçien?”

While I talk, I manage to fully free myself with my normal arm. He had not bound my feet or knees.

“Do you want to destroy me like Solitaire, oh brother dear?”

My words sober him.

“I will not intervene with the attempted murder of the crown princess,” he proclaims, his voice coming from very far away.

“Try not to wash your hands in innocence as it is futile!” I yell. “You have no idea what you will unleash.”

“I fear, I do. But whatever will be, will be.”

I should choke him until his regret pours out of every single opening of his body. “I will tell her the truth.”

“Do whatever you wish to do, Isabeau. It will take you three sun weeks to sail back to the city. I left you sufficient food and water supplies. You have no means of communication on board, but you will be safe.”

With that statement, Luçien simply vanishes.

I stand on the deck of the empty ship, my hands clenched in fists.

********************************************************************

Waves come along, hit the ship and vanish again. Time is meaningless in the great wide open of the ocean. There is no shouting on my part, no tantrum at all. It will not help the children at all when I waste my strength. They badly need me and my wits.

I turn towards the cockpit and slide in. Inside the small, though stylish room my greatest worry becomes true. The controls are damage beyond repair. I suspect Force lightening.

Several heartbeats later, for I refuse to be beaten yet, I examine the machine room. There it is clear to me that the ship's motor is dysfunctional as well.

Under my breath I curse Luçien for his cold efficiency. He has thought of everything.

There is no way of sending a message. For once I wish I could use the Force to do that, but shove that idle thought aside.

On the deck again, I check my other possibilities.

My eyes wander over the smooth, white surface of the sails. At least they are intact.

A desert child knows about travelling by the blessings of the winds. They tell you about weather changes, about possible food sources, about mating partners and of so much more. If you are lucky you can even detect your enemies, provided that they are not very clever.

In my mother's tribe we even had trained with wind surfers to tax the warriors reflexes and intuition. Those fast, agile and unstable vehicles have a small driver's cabin and wheels that roll over the dunes of the erg, pushed by the wind.

Sailing a boat demands perhaps more skills, but I am prepared. I have to be.

Calmness enters my soul.

Luçien also has left me a compass, a sea map and a star cart. His fairness towards me cannot excuse his crimes against my protégés.

When my father had been slain by the soldiers of the House Ankoù, his heart had been ripped out of his chest and devoured by the very man that I had learned to call papa. This is an old war tradition among my people. I am keen to have my step-brother's heart.

********************************************************************

Over the next few days I only take small naps in-between. I have to stay alert for changes in wind and oceanic currents. By keeping my hands busy, I distract my thoughts from what lies ahead.

On the third day, after the wind stopped blowing and the boat lies still until the late afternoon, I get the tool box from the machine room and with its valuable help I tear a wooden plank loose from the boat house. It is a thick plank and therefore suits my plans perfectly.

Working on that plank keeps me sane all the weeks that are to follow.

In addition to the weapon that I create, I steel my body with the exercises that Solitaire's holocron has once taught me.

I give myself three fixed moments during the day, when I train my muscles and senses: at dawn, in the midday sun and at dusk.

Standing on deck by every type of weather, the sea, the wind and the sun scourge me even more.

I let each moment count, loose myself in it.

The lance is finished at the moment the city state of Polysýndeton comes into view. It is every inch as I have wanted it to be.

My father used to have a lance like that. Count Ankoù, not able to break it in half, had put my father's head on it.

Blood rushes loudly through my veins while I sail towards the city state.

I want more than just Luçien's head. Much more.

********************************************************************

Long before I enter the harbour I can already see the signs of trouble ahead. Smoke is rising from the city centre. I do not like the colour of it. As a daughter of the dune sea, I know everything there is to know about the element of fire.

With every sea mile that I come closer the smell of burned human flesh and molten buildings turns stronger. My stomach is very upset, but I hold it in. Instead my eyes scan my surroundings. The destruction is foul and vast.

Somebody has noticed my return. A small figure, clad in a bright green toga, stands at the pier.

I let out a sigh of relief.

At least Grianán is alive.

I ask myself though who has gotten hurt instead. Or even died in my absence.

While I manoeuvre the ship in, another familiar person arrives. Though I have to check twice that it is really him.

Narthex seems to have aged a hundred years since I last saw him. His bent figure holds on to a walking stick and I pray it is just the sign of a curable injury. Nothing permanent, nothing that will hinder him for long.

“Milady.” His voice sounds as raspy as an old door whose hinges stopped working properly. It is in his eyes though where the true distortion lies.

“Who?” I ask as I leave the ship, bracing myself for the worst. “And how?”

The memory seems too heavy for Narthex. His knees give in. I hurry him towards the nearest pole. There I cradle him in my arms. I stand hovering above him like a bantha mother, who is dealing with a sick calf.

The valet is shaking through and through.

My eyes start to scan the surroundings again while I cradle the distraught man in my arms.

There is no harbour security, not even working crews. Polysýndeton seems like a city waking up from a dreadful nightmare and finding out that all was real.

Grianán stands close by. All the unspeakable horror, the sheer shock of events are written into her small face. Seeing her like this makes it clear to me that the survivors of House Tjiehenet need my protection. I will be their sword, their shield. What ever service needed, I will give it to them.

“Will you?” she croaks with the voice that almost sounds like that of an old woman close to death.

“Yes,” I answer before I am even aware of it.

Grianán moves forward. Shadows dance in her eyes. The dark side has come very close to her, but left her sane, if not unharmed. “You want answers,” she says. “I can give them to you.”

I let go of Narthex who has stopped crying and seems stable enough again to sit up without help.

“The Force gave a gift to me.” One of the girl's hands shoots forward. “Look through my eyes!”

Being touched by Grianán is like putting on a glove. Her mind fits into mine perfectly. We melt into one another and I let out a sharp breath.

_The Force is unleashed, or better to say my sister Adamah is. In her most desperate hour, her heritage has come upon her. It actually uses her as a vessel in the physical world._

_Guns claim a life of their own, shooting in every direction possible. Sometimes the laser fire hits living flesh, but in most cases only wood, stone or metal surfaces are shoot upon._

_People howl in confusion and pain._

_Aunt Calothrix passes me by at one of the open doors, clutching to a crying Khion. “Grianán, come with me!” she pleads. “You must not be out here!”_

_I have no time to follow her, because Uncle Kairos pushes me brutally. “Off with you, freak!”_

_The winged door is barred behind me and I hear Aunt Calothrix scream, “You monster! She is our niece!”_

_More locks doors are bolted from the inside, while Uncle Kairos barks, “I hope they all die today, the entire freak show that Agathos produced with that reptile.”_

_I turn away from the temple, just to see Sereno and Éleos sprint towards Adamah in the distance. Her eye sockets contain only yellow fire. The eye balls have melted away. My sister is truly gone. All that remains in the middle of the plaza is a lethal tool of the dark side._

_My two brothers get swept away in the Force storm along with a few other unfortunate people. At least their skills of levitation will prevent them from crashing on the ground._

_Somebody pats my head. It was Mother. “Stay right here and do not move! There is nothing you can do, Grianán. I will take care of this. It is my destiny.”_

_Helplessly, I watch her walk towards her own doom, her back straight. There is no false haste in her movements. She has an appointment with death and she knows it._

_The buildings that surround the market place are on fire. This is not like a usual fire that can be found inside a chimney. No power in the universe can extinguish its unnatural heat. It will eat its way through the city and devour everything in its wake. I pray that Luçien has brought his family into safety. Their pretty yellow house is nearby._

_Slowly, I walk until I am in the middle of the stair case, being forced to stop more than once._

_Dead bodies and body parts are scattered around like neglected toys. My light shield only holds all the flying debris away from me. I have to be careful not to stumble._

_Mother bursts into flames. Instead of letting go of Adamah, she holds her even tighter. It does not matter to her that my sister´s soul is already long gone. It is still the body she has given birth to._

_Daná cries out in terror and Caelestris does all she can to calm her with little success._

_Father collapses and rolls down the stair case. Grandfather runs after him, his face a mask of alarm._

_“No more!” I reach into the depths of my being. My memories of the Force vortex are still there. I have to catapult them into the abyss around me._

_My Midi-chlorians help me to accomplish the impossible, but there is a price to pay._

_Blood vessel after blood vessel bursts inside my body._

_All that is in the air falls on the ground._

_Something red runs out of my ears in hot streams._

_The Force storm dies in the distance._

_“Please stop! Please stop! Please stop!” I repeat this sentence like a mantra as I cry tears of blood._

_More red rivers seek their way out of me through the corners of my mouth. I do not mind. If I die right here and now, it will be for a good cause._

_Then I stand directly in front of the smoking pile that once was Mother and my sister Adamah. Their bodies have molten into one another like two chunks of bantha butter. Despite what has happened, one of them is still alive and fully conscious._

_“Mama? Mama? Can you hear me?”_

_Her emerald eyes open despite her severe burns. She looks at me with love. Her thoughts, drowned in unbelievable pain, reach out for mine._

Grianán cuts our mental connection again.

I stare at her in wonderment.

Destiny has denied me a bantha companion, but it has given me a different kind of bond. All the suffering, all the happy moments, my sexual abstinence and childless life, all has added up to this very moment. Due to the Force Grianán is part of me now and she will be forever.

My tears soak the golden shimmering hair underneath me in no time.

The girl holds still, so utterly still. I do not even have the strength to utter her name. There are no words in the universe that would bring ease.

“There is one thing,” she says very softly. “Be strong for me. I need you to make me strong as well.”

********************************************************************

The creature in front of me is truly the mighty god queen of Cunabula. The regent of billions of Draconian citizens. The mother of the snake spawn that I have dedicated my life to.

But what amazes me even more is that Arcānā has waited for me here on Draconis. I am the only reason why she has refused to leave her molten body yet. Me being here seems to be the most important thing in the entire galaxy for the god queen.

I try to focus on her emerald eyes and to shut out all the other sensations the emergency room gives me.

The beeping sounds of the monitoring consoles.

The holy leaves the three priestesses are burning for her.

The salty tears on the faces of her children.

The sullen doctors giving all of us dark looks for being simply being here in this room.

Fact is, Arcānā is dying. There is no escape for her. If she does not mind all the visitors currently in this room, the doctors should respect her wishes.

“Arcānā.” To speak her name feels reassuring to me.

**“You came.”**

Her voiceless words echo in my head, cheerful and relieved. Telepathy is the only means of communication to her now. Her lips will never be able to form a single vowel again. They are sealed forever. A molten mass of flesh.

“Of course I came!” I shout back, more driven by anger than of the fear she will not manage to hear me properly. “Do you think that grinning bastard has beaten me? Luçien is very wrong when he thinks that he has won.”

**“So the son of Dealg is behind this?”** Her surprise is genuine.

“He knew about the plans of the priest and his followers. This is why I ended up on that cursed boat in the middle of nowhere.”

**“I see.”**

The look in Adamah's eyes intensifies. I wonder in how much pain she really is. How she can stand so much sorrow without going mad.

**“Do not bemoan me, Isabeau. Soon, I will be one with the Living Force.”**

That remark makes me swallow very hard. “Any last words?”

It startles me to hear her laughter roar through my head, so wild, so free.

**“Otherwise I would not have held out here, waiting for you, silly kitty cat.”**

“I am not that important,” I state uncomfortably, wondering what mad scheme she has come up with now.

**“You are my only hope of setting things right.”**

“Great,” I blur out. “Pin all your precious hopes on me.”

**“Those hopes do carry names that are dear to you.”**

“The children.”

**“It is all about the children. They are my heritage to the universe. Care for them. Be the mother they need! Bring an era of peace and happiness to the realm.”**

“Do not overestimate my skills,” I warn Arcānā, wondering if she is already in delirium. “I am not schooled in statesmanship at all. All I ever was and all I will ever be is a huntress.”

**“You are capable of more things than you can imagine.”**

There is a new tenderness to Arcānā. She radiates that clearly into the room.

**“And this is why I want you to be my regent until the day Caelestris is old enough to sit on the throne.”**

I look for the girl's face in the crowd of family members, medical staff and snake priestesses.

Caelestris is as frightened as she possibly can be. Her face has a pale and drawn look. I wonder if she has eaten at all the past days.

“Are you sure that she is the one?” I raise an eyebrow.

**“For now she has to be.”** Arcānā sounds casual. **“As for Éleos and Sereno, sent them to Elfin foster parents.”**

“You must be out of your mind!”

**“In fact, I will be soon. My time is running out.”** Arcānā is giggling. **“Nothing can stop that. What can be fixed though is our politician relationship to the Elfin nations.”**

I roll my eyes at her. “Boys, your mother wants you to go to the courts of some back country rulers of Elfin origin. Fancy that?”

The fact that they manage happy smiles on their anguished faces puzzles me. “We would love that very much,” they reply in unison. “There is much to learn and much to see.”

“So be it then.” I give the priestesses that are present the most smug expression that I can manage. “I will not be questioned, overruled or denied.”

The women seem to be willing to start a fight, but then their shoulders sag and they relent, tired and worried. “We will obey You, Holy Consort.”

“Holy? Consort?” I give the dying Arcānā a bitter smile. “Well done, queeny. Now the whole realm will believe that you have gotten me after all.”

**“As if you would care for what people think.”** A sparkle of humour shines in the deep green iris. **“This is why I gave you the position after all. Only you can fill it.”**

“This is what I always hated about you, queeny.” I smelled death approach. “You made me do things.”

**“Not without your agreement. You always had a choice, when you think about it.”**

“You have not enough breath left for me to take time to consider that.” I sigh. “And what of the rest?”

**“The young ones need you the most. Keep them close, but not so close that they cannot breath properly! Daná needs the most guarding. She is as wild and free as an eopie foil.”**

“More like a young rancor, bringing havoc to the neighbourhood.”

Luckily the child in question is asleep in Jocus' arm. Her face is puffy and red. Tears stains are visible on her cheeks. I hope she will sleep on. She will not take her mother's death as lightly as everybody else. The concept of letting go is difficult for her to understand. I will have to deal with her in due time.

“And Grianán?” I ask carefully.

**“Try to keep Grianán as long as you can at your side. Hide her as you must. Teach her all that you can. That you know. And...”**

“Yes?” I feel the telepathic link getting weaker and weaker.

**“Go to the dune sea with her. It is of great importance.”**

“I am banished from Sapuhru for good.” I am outraged at the request. “Any other Lidérc can take my life if I refuse to keep away from my home planet.”

**“You will find a way. You always do. Against all odds. You are strong and the Force is with you, Isabeau. Always.” Her eyes try to find somebody else now. “Tell Agathos, that I loved...”**

God queen Arcānā Tamisra Tjiehenet, just twenty-five sun years of age, is gone for good. Within a single heartbeat her horrible outlines vanish from of the bed.

A priestess that I know steps forward. “The queen is dead, long live the queen!” Clementia smiles at me. “I mean, long live the Holy Consort!”

The royal children gather around me like a bantha herd that need a new shepherdess.

I have become the regent of an entire planet. With only nineteen years of age.

I am sure this is not what Luçien had planned, when he did not stop a bunch of religious fanatics. He also has not taken a lot of other things into account. The impact of events on the health of his friend Agathos. Or the reaction of the inhabitants of Amnion towards Force users.

“To wash your hands in innocence never works, brother,” I smirk, while I hug the children around me back.

Luçien also hadn't counted on Arcānā finding her way to the Living Force out of love for her children. I will make sure that each serpent-spawn will get a chance to surprise him too.


	20. Chapter 20

During my last meeting with Arcānā I had resolutely pushed aside everything else. But the future does not want to be ignored.

The young man with the bad temper is roasted alive. The heat of a nearby lava stream reaches out for him, setting his body on fire. He denies himself his own death though. His blind hatred turns him into a warrior in black. A nemesis like no other before.

Stirred by the things that are to be, I wake up in the middle of the night. I am not screaming, but my pillow is sweaty. And my nightgown, too.

I leave my bed and the room altogether.

My destination is clear. It is but a short distance.

In the pale moon light the royal pyramid gleams like a holocron when activated by its user. Greenish ley lines crawl towards the top like giant snakes. The light side and the dark side meet right above the children that I care for.

Èleos, Caelestris, Sereno, Iocus, Blandita, Rubio, Daná, Calathus and Grianán – they are together now. They sleep in the _nidulus_ , bed nest. For me it is too warm, too sticky and by far too claustrophobic. I am too much of a desert creature.

But there are other ways to be there for my wards. I want to teach them self-control, humility and mercy. Things the man in black from my vision seems to lack as much as Luçien.

The desert has taught me that life is process of constant change, and its practices aim to take advantage of this fact. Therefore it is my solemn believe that one can change for the better.

A good education is of course no guaranty that things cannot go utterly wrong. As a nanny I am fully aware of that. But it might give the serpent-spawn knowledge and understanding to make the right choices.

********************************************************************

Soon it figures out that my life as the Holy Consort does not differ much from my tasks as a royal nanny. The pace of daily affairs stays pretty much the same, too, which I regard as the greatest luxury of all.

One thing that amazes me though is the cheerfulness of all the royal subjects. They give me smiles, flowers, fruit, jewellery made from germs of simple pearls, cotton for my tunics and all their love. I bare all their affection with silent dignity and the traditional greeting: “May the Force be with you.”

For this particular gesture I need to bend my arms from the elbow upwards and face the two palms of the hands. Then I place the palms together and keep the folded palms in front of my chest. While I say the ritual words, I need to bow the head slightly.

The Force touches every being and each aspect of daily life on the Holy Isle of Cunabula. Even though the Ophidiae pray to a nourishing mother goddess. But even Ishtar is a personification of the almighty energy field, that binds life together.

Slowly recovering from his heart attack, Agathos aims to take over the majority political tasks. All those meetings with official people. The regular audiences with Draconian subjects from all over the globe. Nobody did oppose him. Neither for being male nor for being an off-word person.

Even the humans from the North and various Elfin lords come to see him. He is wise beyond his years, regarded as a diplomat with great cultural knowledge.

The religious tasks are solemnly preformed by Aerumna, the high priestess of Cunabula. For this I am grateful as well. I have no wish to participate in fertility rituals or give my blessings to infants. The royal princesses and princes I love with all my heart. For the offspring of others I simply cannot warm up.

As for the underground scientists, who seldom leave their laboratories, they can manage perfectly without me.

And so, each morning still starts with me getting up in my guest room in the bungalow of Agathos.

After a brief shower in the garden, as usual with the daily amounts of the rain water tank, I get dressed in my traditional desert tunics.

Then I have breakfast with Agathos and Narthex.

When the three of us have finished all the necessary discussing and planning for the day, I walk over to the royal pyramid. There the eager serpent-spawn waits for me, the so-called mater familias. Agathos has offered them to move in with us, but they kindly refuse to leave their mother's sanctuary.

A new familiarity between the children and me since Arcānā, following Phosphoros and Adamah, had become one with the Force. None of the other children have any problems adjusting to her last wishes. And so I am de facto the so-called mater familias, the very head of the royal household.

********************************************************************

One time, during a visit to the desert village of Sendero, a very old woman comes towards me. Her step is slow, yet the dignity with which her walking stick holds her up amazes me. In her youth she must have been a true beauty. Now she radiates wisdom.

“Only you made the god queen turn away from the dark side,” she calls to me over the village plaza. “Without you she never would have learned to take care of her children or rethink her past actions again.”

I walk towards the old hag, amused. “The choice was hers and hers alone. Do not give me too much credit!”

“The dark side is twisted. The ones who get lost to her do need strong persons to help them back to the light. Arcānā was sufficiently lost. She never would have made it back on her own. Her own fears were by far too great. The hatred in her was too mighty.” She smiles at me, an almost toothless smile in a wrinkled face. “What you did achieve with her and the royal family is a miracle.”

“I just love. That is all.”

A very thin hand shoots forward, resting on my left cheek. “Love is the most powerful thing there is in the universe. It makes a difference, Marquise Isabeau Riwalan. Because you feel this love for her serpent-spawn, you were able to make a difference. You showed them that this precious love of yours is greater than any fear in their heart. That it is more powerful than any act of anger.”

“But I can't always be around,” I sigh, melting away under the touch of the old fingers. “One day I will be gone too, like their mother. Like their siblings, that are already one with the Force.”

“True, true. And difficult choices they will have to make then, all of them. Some will choose the darkness and some the light. They have lives of their own. Destinies of their own. Yet you will have left footsteps in their heart.”

“A nomad leaves no footsteps. The sand of time blows them away.”

“Your courage and dedication leaves echoes.” The wrinkly smile widens, reaching her tender eyes. “You will be the idol and the inspiration of the Tjiehenet serpent-spawn. Therefore you will turn into a piece of history. You will be an important story.”

I cannot help to smirk. In all of my visions of the future I never had dared to look into the lives of the children.

“Do not!” The old woman warns me suddenly, which proves me she is an able telepath. “Love them for who they are. The Living Force is about the here and now.  
Your people call it _The Way_. Teach them to live by it. Everything else will come together sooner or later. You cannot stop a sand storm with your bare hand. What you can do though is to prepare for it.”

With that, the hag walks away again, disappearing in one of the low huts. She leaves me standing there and pondering about the future once more.

********************************************************************

Precisely three sun months passed before a neatly written letter arrives. It is addressed to me. I gaze at its seal and decide to leave it unopened.

The next one arrives but seven days later. It shares the fate of its predecessor. I store it in a drawer.

A third letter is not send though. The sender comes to meet me herself, in all her dark and terrible glory.

Her Holiness Mórag MagUhidir makes a rather impressive arrival at the Holy Isle. She is all by herself in a bark that shines like her pale skin. The bark moves all by itself. There are no visible oars and no servants on-board. I guess that her midi-chlorians make overtime.

Despite the moist and warm climate of Cunabula the abbess wears an anthracite coloured travelling cloak, that is made out of felt. Her raven black hair is done in one of those complicated hairstyles that Northern Elves love. With strange hand gestures she passes all Shesha guards unharmed. Nobody dares to go near her, though all weapons are pointed directly at her.

I look at the big mass of people that moves towards me, while I am having a civilized afternoon tea with Agathos and Narthex. The three of us enjoy cinnamon bisques to eat and are in the middle of a deep conversation.

With regret, I put my coffee mug down on its saucer.

“Your Holiness! What an unexpected pleasure!” I call out to the abbess, trying hard to keep an expression on my face that fits the occasion. It is difficult to find one.

“If you would have taken care to read my letters carefully, it would not have been necessary for me to come all the way out here.” She marches up to the veranda, the edges of her long gown wet with mud. “I will not be ignored that way.”

“I see you!” I announce with a serene face while saying these ancient desert words of greeting.

“Good that I am finally noticed by you, milady. I hope that the belongings of Èleos, Sereno and Grianán are packed?”

Agathos face turns into a very unhealthy colour, while Narthex makes an audible gasp.

I shake my head. “No, you are mistaken. Nothing is packed.”

“You do not only insult me with this decision of yours. The druid council and a great Elfin Houses from the Plains will be upset, too. After the unfortunate events of Princess Aréte's death we want to make amendments. You should give us a chance to prove our good will to you. When the shocking events of Polysýndeton became known to us, our determination to help the royal house of Tjiehenet grew even stronger.”

Her already black eyes turn darker with each word that she speaks. It seems that no sunlight can shine into the depths of her heart. Her very soul is like a black pool.

I also do not like her to use the term 'we' so often. Nobody knows better than me how broken the Elfin nation is. There are so many fractions out there, that it is simply not possible for their leaders to form an alliance. Get two Elves together and you already have three opinions.

“Isa!” Èleos shows up some yards away, hand in hand with Sereno. They are both carrying small bundles.

Controlled, I get up. “Is it what you wish for, boys? For yourself? Not because your mother wanted it on her deathbed?”

Èleos gives me one of those smiles that sinks deep into my heart. “I would like to learn the ways of the druid priests. The way that they see the universe and use their powers interests me a great deal. This is the right age to begin my training as an initiative.”

I grant the boy a court nod. “And you, Sereno?”

“Lord MacDubh is known for his knowledge of plants and animal live the Montes Nubii. If the duties of his house would not have denied him to become a healer, his fame would be even bigger. There is much to learn from him.” His eyes gleam with delight. “Please say yes, Isa! My brothers and sisters also say yes.”

I should have known that the royal serpent-spawn had done more than playing ordinary hide and seek in the jungle. It had been too quiet, too uneventful.

They all had helped to pack. I can clearly see that children's hands have stuffed those bundles together. The possibility that I have to send missing items after the boys is very high.

Yet I have to admire their courage and determination. They have made very grown-up decisions. It fills my heart with joy and sadness at the same time.

I turn around, facing the two human men behind me. Even though they look concerned and sad, they nod to me in unison.

“This leaves only one child to question.” I gather a lot of air in my lunges together, before shouting. “Grianán, please tell me your choice!”

A soft wind comes up, blowing some old leaves together. They start a strange ballet dance, shivering back and forth.

More and more leaves gather. They form a big column, reminding me of a sand twister on my home world.

When the leaves finish their unusual performance, the shape of the number nine lies unmistakably on the ground.

I smile, very much relieved. “I think that is a clear answer, Your Holiness. Please come back when Grianán is nine sun years old.”

“This answer is unacceptable.”

“It is the only one that You will get.” I straighten my back. “I will not force any of her children to act against their own hearts wishes.”

“You will regret this choice.” The icy gaze of the Sleah Maith rest on me.

“ _Au contraire!_ Each of the royal children is strong in the Force. Èleos seeks a code that enables all Force users to serve the common good. Sereno likes to speak with animals and intelligent plant life. As for Grianán...”

Life comes into the leaves again. They rise once more and settle back into the shape of a heart.

“Grianán still has to choose which path she will thread on,” I state. “She is not ready to face Your darkness yet, abbess.”

The mask of calmness breaks. Her Holiness Mórag MagUhidir shows what she is really made off. “There is no darkness!” she screams. “There are only lies about my order. We preserve the light.”

“At what cost?” I muse. “The bonfires are alight these days. So much destruction, so much pain.”

“I do not expect a desert nomad to understand the delicate matters of the Elfin nation.”

“I propose you sit down with Vicomte Luçien Ankou. Dealg is his father after all.” My words cause an ugly colour to show up in her snow white face. “There are also Asrai that would like to consult with you about the fate of your race.”

“One does not speak of the Dead.”

“The Water Elves, whom I was allowed to meet once, seemed pretty alive to me. And so did the Scatel, that hide among the humans of Amnion.”

“You have no idea what you are dealing with.” Violet lights crackle around the finger tips of the abbess.

The Shesha becomes unsettled. With their third eye, hidden in the midst of their forehead, they can see the power of the dark side gathering as well. And they have very intense memories of the belated Arcānā with her fits.

“Caelestris may be the true ruler, but at present I am the regent of this planet, Your Holiness. And I am a very concerned and interested regent. Of course, I am aware that nobody can take a grip on the Korriganes, not even your holy order. They are too wild and untamed.”

My words have the effect of poisoned arrows. The abbess gets herself more and more into a rage.

“Then there is the matter of the peaceful Gwyllion, which are hunted down for they carrying of both Elf blood and...”

“Stay out of the affairs of our great nation! There is no conflict!”

“Actually, there is no nation to speak of. You are scattered leaves in the wind.”

She whirls around, snapping her fingers towards Èleos and Sereno. “We are leaving, now!”

The twin brothers look at me, big eyed.

“Come here!” I say gently, opening my arms. “I wish you two a good journey and hope you stay in touch. Also try not to upset the abbess in any way!”

Sereno gazes up to me. “There was no reason to make her this mad.”

“She carries a lot of madness inside her, making her angry all by herself, dear. To have a reasonable conversation with her is not possible.”

I watch the Mountain Elf storming away from the clearing. Her coat is blowing behind her.

**_The man in black moves among his soldiers like a powerful shadow. He towers above them._ **

**_Slowly, he looks at all the destruction and death around him sharply, his skull-like helmet moving slightly from left to right._ **

**_But he does not care._ **

**_His heart is cold and his soul withered._ **

I shake my vision off, moving on with my little speech. “This proves once more that the dark side clouds the mind and makes people unable to control their emotions. Stay away from the meek promises of the dark side! And brush your teeth at least every night. Let me be proud of you.”

“Why put an effort in for it? You are always proud of me,” the boy answers, sniggering.

I give Sereno the old travel blessing of my people while his brother Èleos kisses his father and his grandfather good-bye. “Just be good!”

Grianán comes running out of a nearby bush, her twin siblings Iocus, Blandita, Rubio, Daná and Calathus in her trail. Their clothing is dirty. On their faces are signs of camouflage.

“Come here, your rascals! Say your brothers good-bye! They will be on a very long journey.”

Actually longer than all the books that Narthex gave me to read about Elves up to the present day.

********************************************************************

Right after the encounter with Her Holiness Mórag MagUhidir I begin my special training with the children.

All knowledge is worth having. Theirs is focused on the Daoine Sidhe and the pale faced, dark haired Sleah Maith from the icy mountains regions of Draconis.

With the consensus of Agathos and Narthex I explain to the royal bunch how the Asrai left Draconis and settled down on the neighbour planet of Sapuhru. There they started to take care of the underground water wells.

I move on to Dealg, the god like Force bender. He had lived in absolute symbiosis with his Midi-chlorians. His teachings on the concept of the Living Force are priceless and mind blowing.

Not just Caelestris, but all her brothers and sisters have to hear about the Korriganes, the Elfin answer to the clones and zombie armies of Cunabula. Their loyalty towards their makers grew weak over the centuries. At some point most of the Elfin mutants disappeared into the wilderness, and there they turned into legends.

It is after that point that I feel the right time has come to speak about Sionnach, their Elfin blood cousin. If she ever shows up in front of her royal family, they will welcome her with open arms.

I also introduce the children to the Scatel, who had been upset about the dark deeds of their Elfin brothers and sisters. Running from the war against the Ophidiae, they had moved to Amnion long before the human Star Fleet showed up there. Since then they co-existed with their neighbours, eager not to be recognized for what they were.

Other facts of the history of the Chrysolith sun system, the non-Elfin stuff, I leave to Agathos. Therefore he has to explain why the political relationship with Amnion is frozen for the time being.

Why the events of the tragic assassination of Phosphoros had made the Human League stronger.

Why it is for the better to not visit their grandmother Techné any more.

And why the contact with their uncle Kairos should be left at an absolute minimum.

Narthex has the lighter task: the introduction to Terra's old philosophers and their teachings. Themes that do not appeal to Daná. Thanks to her fierce requests he also begins to teach other things, like cooking, the rules of etiquette among noble houses and domestic household matters.

To my surprise it is Grianán who asks about physical exercises. They had been taught by Arcānā's weapon master before Doom's Day, but this seems not to be enough for her.

Together with her twin sibling Daná we start meeting each morning after breakfast. Either on the veranda or at the edge of the old stone staircase, that leads towards the river. There we engage in the exercises of my former desert tribe.

The rest of the serpent-spawn is more enthusiastic about the things their father suggests to them: painting lessons, musical education and geographical matters.

And so Agathos, Narthex and I manage something which the children never had before: a fixed timetable of lessons.

Before, they just had roamed the jungle, being allowed to sharpen all their seven senses. I had trailed along with them, watching over their precious lives. Their mother had introduced them to a lot of languages, of course, and their surroundings had encouraged them even further. There had been a lot of holocrons eager to share their knowledge. There had also been some basic weapon training: daggers and swords.

*******************************************************************

The following three sun years pass by and are blissfully uneventful. Regular letters arrive from Èleos and Sereno, now thirteen, telling us about their adventures.

To be precise: Èleos tries his best not to give too much away of his druid training, but he writes us about the landscapes he travels through and the food that he eats.

There seem to be a lot of cakes, bisques and breads in the Elfin kitchen. I wonder what helps their lot to stay so unbelievably thin. Never before has a fat Elf crossed my way. There must be a trick about that. Nobody can eat such amounts of food without putting on weight. Perhaps their magic burns so strongly in their bodies that they simply cannot put on any amount of fat.

Sereno composes lively essays about his excursions with his foster-father Lord MacDubh, obviously a friendly and very adventurous character.

All in all I am under the impression that I will be able to address each ant and every tree personally if we ever visit Dún Barr again.


	21. Chapter 21

One fine morning, when I am in the middle of some caporeia exercises with Daná and Grianán, a strange glow catches my attention. I gaze towards the river and I spot a familiar shape at the shore.

_“Tu veux rire!”_ I gasp. _You must be kidding me!_

I signal the six year old girls to move on without me. They know exactly what to do: 'Bridge Ups'. Those have to be followed by 'Bridge Jumps' and 'Monkey Flips'. Each exercise comes with three rounds and eight reps for each round.

In no particular haste I saunter towards the blue shimmering figure. “Is there a thing like a Force ghost?” I ask.

Arcānā grants me her brightest smile, looking a bit cheeky. “I guess there is. Otherwise I would not be here, would I now?”

“Ghosts are supposed to haunt people and be a pain in the ass,” I suggest levelly.

“I did that when I was still alive. Now I go for something new. I try to spread wisdom.”

“Enlighten me!” I roll my feline eyes. “But do not speak in riddles. I hate riddles. Also try not to be the harbinger of new deaths in the family.”

“The future is always in motion, as you know best.”

“I suppose,” I state, smirking. “Why are you here? Just to enjoy the morning air?”

She shakes her shiny head. “I am just here to say good-bye. Soon I will be one with the Force vortex.”

“It has a vortex?” My enthusiasm is very low about this announce. There is a hell after all. “Do I really want to know?”

“What you want to know is: a storm is coming.”

“Great, trouble is ahead for us and you decide to have an ever lasting holiday inside some silly vortex.” I keep my anger in check as best as I can. “How thoughtful of you.”

“Isabeau, you have faced him before. Nobody can deal better with him than you can.” Arcānā seems not to be crossed with me. “I trust you to make the right decisions. May the Force be with you... always!”

With that the former god queen of Cunabula vanishes. There is just the ancient river making its way through the river valley and mangroves.

“Perfect”, I mutter, “just perfect.”

********************************************************************

Daná and Grianán are still busy doing their shoulder and back acrobatics, when I come back. Every movement of theirs is graceful.

When they are about to finish their last exercise, the 'Monkey Flips', I decide to speak to them. “Do me one favour! If you ever die, do not waste your time on useless visits from the Netherworld of the Force.”

“Isa.” Grianán turns her pale face towards me. “Mother also appeared to each of us with messages and words of love.”

Daná throws in, “One thing that matters is that Luçien is coming.”

“Nonsense. He would never dare.”

“Actually Agathos invited him,” a smooth voice comments

Behind the girls Narthex shows up, clinging to his walking stick.

I shake my pointer finger at the elderly human. “Agathos would never do such a stupid thing.”

“Luçien has regular contact with him since the events of Polysýndeton. They write each other on a weekly basis.” Narthex reveals, his voice calm and even. “I never did mention it before though. There was no need to upset you.”

“Upset me?” I laugh haughtily. “Letter writing seems to be the favourite hobby of this family. Is anybody else writing letters to unacceptable persons?”

“His Lordship seems really sorry about the death and destruction that he has caused.”

“And how exactly does he intend to close the wounds? Send flowers? Write poems? Erect a temple? Crawl up the holy pyramid on his knees?”

“Actually he wants to help dad as a personal secretary,” Grianán gives to consider, eyeing me with interest.

Gray mists dance in the girl's unusual iris. The toddler cuteness has vanished from her facial lines. Her fine bones show the promise of great beauty. She wears nothing but a bright green scarf around her hips. Her golden hair is done in many little braids as it is the fashion of the inhabitants of the Mare Coloris.

“Is there more writing to be done?” My fingers transform to claws. While I speak my fangs shoot out. “I can help Agathos here, you know.”

“Isabeau,” Narthex addresses me very tenderly. “The latest results of Agathos' heart tests are not the best. The medical team is not satisfied that he does not agree to a transplantation. Therefore Luçien has agreed to be his personal healer in secret and to be his secretary in public.”

“This plan lacks of any logic. I will not allow you guys to go through with it. There is no way that I will ever accept my cursed step-brother as a member of the court. Not even if you want to have men's evenings with water pipes and card games.”

Daná raises her chin, in a way that reminds me of her mother. “One has to keep one's friends close and one's enemies even closer.”

“You do not wish to have something like him at all at the royal court.”

I gave the girl, that is all muscles and bones, a sour smile. She never will be such an unnatural beauty as her sister. But she will make heads turn around to her anyway. She is fresh and energetic. There is not a single day when we do not disagree to something. Her love for me is unconditional though.

“Listen, Daná! Luçien is a trained assassin and the user of dark powers, even though he tries to convince himself that he serves the light side of the Force.”

Comparing Ankoù and MagUhidir in my mind, I find a lot of unpleasant parallels. Perhaps they had been good once, but had been corrupted without even noticing it. Each decision to fight the darkness had made matters even worse.

“I want a family conference about it. Now!” I decide.

“There will be no need.” Narthex voice has a regretful edge. “His ship has just landed here.”

_“Merci, merci beaucoup!”_ I roar. _Thank you, thank you very much._

Then I start to sprint down the steps and made a leap into the muddy river water.

Daná, Grianán and Narthex are calling for me, but I stay under the surface until my lungs almost collapse.

********************************************************************

Not much later I find myself standing inside the heart of the royal pyramid. The windowless yet spacey chamber is well-lit by blue crystals. Everything around me screams classy and expensive. The furniture is made of rich mahogany wood. Built-in wardrobes fill most of the space.

“This used to be mother's dressing-room,” Grianán explains, “But she hardly was in here. The crypts were more to her liking.”

_“Tu rigoles?”_ I snort. _You must be kidding!_

I spot a massive treasure chest. It's in the centre of the stone chamber. I can see no keyhole or other visible opening mechanism. “And this is her little jewel case, right?”

Grianán, still standing in the door frame, nods. With a little turn of her wrist she casually opens the chest's lid. It is one of her many Force tricks that I have forbidden her to use in her training sessions. Capoeira is a Dance of War, an approach to life. There is no use to show off with unnatural powers. No cheating of any kind.

I step closer to the chest, while the girl remains where she is.

Cascades of diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds and amethysts bedazzle my eyes.

My breath stutters raggedly and I run my tongue over my bottom lip. _“Sacré bleu!”_ I let out, while starring at the riches of House Tjiehenet. _Holy blue!_

Throughout her life Arcānā had worn simple cotton saris and barely any jewellery, constantly defying the fact that she had been the richest women of the entire sun system.

I sink down on an elegant rug, supposedly llama wool. “My step-mothers would murder one another for the privilege to be in this room. Those are the crown jewels, right?”

“There are yours until Adamah is off age. You can wear them any time. My siblings and I talked about it last night.”

At random I pick up a gold-plated chain and study it with an intensity, as if it is a hieroglyphic text.

It has been ages since I last thought of Flor and all the other deadly _chasseuses_ of House Ankoù. There are so many things of my childhood that I am desperate to forget. Especially all the grooming and efforts of my step-family to turn me into a true lady. Luçien should have meddled with those memories instead.

Slender fingers slide up my shoulders, remain there. “Please let me do your hair!” Grianán begs.

I reach out for the girl and once my fingers twine with hers, I tug her down to the floor with me. Straight onto my lap. “Are you sure that is a good idea?”

She nods.

I delve my fingers into her Rasta pigtails and start twisting two of them around my knuckles. “We are already late.”

“You are the current regent of this planet,” Grianán says. “Mother made you by announcing you Holy Consort. Therefore you can do anything that pleases you.”

A predatory smile slides over me like the smoothest silk. “What about executing Ankoù for high treason?”

Uncomfortable with my proposal, the girl fidgets. “This is the only thing you are not allowed to do, Isa. It would be against the rules of hospitality.”

“We could check if Luçien has a heart after all,” I give to consider. “Just give me a traditional jade knife. Let us have a little peak inside his chest!”

Grianán shakes her head. “Father is very proud of our peace treaty with your home world.”

Heat infuses my entire body. “Peace,” I bite out. _“Peace is a lie.”_

Even after so many years the mere thought of Sapuhru still makes my stomach flip. And so I quote the words that my mother once taught me. Pearls of wisdom my entire nomad tribe used to know. The war mantra of House Riwalan.

_“Peace is a lie. There is only passion._   
_Through passion I gain strength._   
_Through strength I gain power._   
_Through power I gain victory._   
_Through victory my chains are broken.”_

The girl reaches out for my face, frames it with her hands. _“The Force shall free me,”_ she adds with a confident smile.

I give her a rueful gaze. “That sentence is not part of the oral tradition by people had.”

“Traditions change when life itself changes.” Grianán leans in on me. “To become an attractive person in the time of my honoured ancestors, you would want your ears and nose and lips pierced, your teeth filed into patterns, and your body tattooed and painted.”

I give her hair a slight tug again, annoyed by her attempt to distract me this way. “You would not dare!”

She giggles.

I let go of her and shoo her out of my lap. “Nothing fancy,” I decide. “With my hair, I mean.”

“Of course not!”

Soon, I allow the girl to smooth out my unruly hair. She uses a local shell hair comb for her self-imposed task. For her this beauty treatment is far more relaxing than it is for me. I let her continue though.

Grianán sparkles in a special way when she is filled with joy. I cherish those little moments with her.

“What's with the blue crystals?” I ask after a while, keen on hearing her lovely voice.

“Oh, you mean the Kaiburr crystals,” she answers. “They are Force-attuned and can be found all over the planet. Especially here on Cunabula.”

My upper lip works up and down, while I ask myself if the midi-chlorians have managed to contaminate all known life on Draconis. Mammals, plants, reptiles, stones – nothing seems to be safe from their corruption.

“It's called a symbiosis,” Grianán says faintly.

My brows draw together and my lips tighten. “What you just did is called 'thought espionage'. Let's be clear about this at least, _n'est-ce pas_?”

No matter how often I tell the royal bunch to stay out of my mind, they plunge into it over and over again. Sure they are able telepaths, but I want them to stick to interpersonal rules. Force users should be more respectful towards normal mortals.

“You did not always hate Luçien,” Grianán says without warning. “There was a time when you worshipped him.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, keeping a lid on my anger. “Leave it!”

“Would you mind to open yourself to me?” the girl begs me, her voice laced with concern. “I would like to understand.”

“This honours you, but still avails nothing. My step-brother is a book with seven seals.” I stretch my legs out, yawning like a true feline being. “Perhaps it is just my pride and my prejudices, _ma petité_. And he is the good person that your father believes him to be.”

“All knowledge is worth having, you always say,” she whispers softly, yet content. “I want to understand why.”

“Sometimes it is better to leave things be and go on with your life. The search for answers can drive you mad. I almost went mad when I was taught the secrets of life.”

“I need to know anyway,” Grianán insists calmly.

“Knowledge can destroy a person,” I warn her.

“By fire, by earth, by water and by air, I swear that I want this.”

Calling the four elements as witnesses is a strong vow. Not one to be given lightly.

“I hope you never regret this,” I speak softly.

“None of us are without a fault.”

“Including you, Grianán?”

I just said that to tease her, but she draws a very harsh breath. Her hands stop in mid-air. “I am the worst of all, this is why I must be good,” she speaks in a trembling tone of voice. “If I ever choose for the dark side it will have terrible consequences. But choose I must, sooner or later. We both know that.”

Her maturity scares me at times.

Suddenly, the stone door opens and from the corner of my eyes I see two small shapes tumbling inside.

********************************************************************

I recognize the newcomers by their odour immediately: feisty Aranea and peaceful Mora. Being Grianán's best friends they are always but a hand's breadth away. Especially here on the Holy Isle.

_“A importância de equilibrio,”_ I comment bluntly. _The importance of balance._

My words turn the giggling girls into well-behaved students immediately.

“Can we help you to get a real make-over, _magistra_?” the six-year-old Mora asks politely. Her heart is about to beat out of her chest.

In a training session I would have given them a hard time for so much impertinence, but right now I have leisure time and, most of all, I am bemused. “Rasta style is not my thing.”

“Let Ankoù see that you are one of us now!” Aranea, almost twelve years of age, blurts out. “You owe him nothing.”

I reach out for my amulet. It is carved out of the wood of a palm tree and has the tribal sign of the House Riwalan on it.

Since the day my mother committed suicide, unwanted Ankoù off-spring planted in her womb by old Alezan, I wear it around my neck. The leather chain has been changed countless times, but the pendant itself is as beautiful as ever.

“Do your worst, girls!” I sigh.

********************************************************************

Aranea, Mora and Grianán almost swoon when they behold the end product of their hard work. “You look wonderful,” the latter says. “Like a dream come true.”

“As long as I do not look like an angel, that is okay for me,” I joke. “For I like myself best alive and rooted in the ground.”

My fingers glide over my new bask corset. Once I had seen Arcānā wearing one those for an official ritual in the Mare Coloris, the Colour Desert.

My breasts feel weird being pushed up like that. It looks slightly indecent.

“The Queen Mother does not look like an angel,” Mora cuts in. “She is blue when she appears. Recently, she got a vague edge though. I was the first to notice.”

Grianán exchanges a quick glance with at her second-oldest friend. “The Force calls for Mother. She will be one with the Force vortex soon.”

I roll my eyes, hoping that my mascara will not smear. “Please give your best to never end up there, ma petité!”

She laughs at me, sweet and carefree.

I gaze into the mirror again.

Wearing my hair in braids had never entered my mind before. It looks familiar, yet strange. But I like what I see.

********************************************************************

Outside the sun has begun its decline from the sky. The shadows of the jungle metropolis have grown longer in our absence.

“Let us share a secret of state with you, Isa,” says Aranea in a meaningful voice.

“Should I be afraid now?” I answer in a mocking tone.

“A government always should be afraid. Of its people. Of making mistakes in its reign. Of not doing what it aught to do.”

Grianán nods to that and her face converts into another, much older one.

_**“What if the democracy we thought we were serving no longer exists, and the Republic has become the very evil we have been fighting to destroy?”** _

_**There is a young woman in heavy robes of state and her hair is done in a complicated hairstyle. She seems to carry a burden. An unexpected one.** _

_**“Ani, I am pregnant.”** _

With the speed of my feline species I reach out for Grianán. She has not seen it coming, not even in the Force. Distraught, she stares at me.

“Promise that you will never have a star-crossed love affair!” I prompt.

She blinks in utter confusion.

“Please do not have a secret pregnancy, that will lead to your doom, either.”

Her giggles wash over me like the curtain of rain above the jungle.

“As you wish, Isa.”

“No!” I snap at her. “That will not do. I do not want you to end up with your heart broken by a man that does not deserve you.”

“All I want to be is a shepherdess one fine day and live in the dune sea of Sapuhru. The desert calls for me, in a way that I do not understand myself yet. I want, need, to be out there, in the dunes and listening to the wind.”

“I am glad that your mother is dead.” I say dryly. “She would not have agreed with your future plans on enemy territory.”

Aranea shrugs at us. “The Queen Mother was a wild spirit in her own ways. Therefore I think she would have understood.”

I give the orphan, whom I have raised alongside the Tjiehenet children, a thoughtful look. “Grianán a princess of royal blood.”

“And your mother was a marquise.”

“There are bonds, Aranea, very strong ones. A _princesse du sang_ can never choose what she does without regard for her people.”

The twelve year old raises her pointed chin proudly. “You have shown us that it is possible to break free from destiny. That there are other possibilities out there.”

“Not for Grianán, I am afraid.”

“There is always a new hope,” Aranea insists.

I am already on first step down, feeling sexy in my new clothing, when I notice that Grianán and her best friends stay behind. “Am I to join dinner without you?”

They nod.

“Really?” I cross my arms in front of my chest, my wrists feeling heavy with the weight of my armbands “What makes you three think so? You are all part of the family. No matter what Daná says. Ignore her constant bickering about it.”

Mora bows to me in a reverent manner. “Gri is not ready to face Luçien yet.”

I reach out for the young priestess. “He will not dare to act out against her in front of us.”

The girl looks up, her lime green eyes sparkling with love. “But what if Gri has the gift that he would fear most of all?”

“Which would be?” I offer, curious. “Dark Witchcraft? Clairvoyance?”

Grianán puts a hand on her chest. “I can read the past by touching a person or an object.”


	22. Chapter 22

With crossed arms and a stern face I listen to Grianán explaining her unusual Force gift, which is a greater infringement than mind reading.

“Psychometry, who would have thought,” I mutter through clenched teeth, while I walk down the pyramid again.

I am late for starters, but I am not very hungry anyway. Not only because of Grianán's confession.

Midnight blue desert robes surround Luçien like a cascade of water. He has chosen to hide his face behind a traditional Lidérc war mask. The very instant that I come toward the dining table, his head snaps around. His eyes are wide with curiosity and nervousness. On his lap sits an Elfin toddler.

I need no clairvoyance to tell that the little red-head belongs to Sionnach O'Conghaile. But to my astonishment I sense something else.

I draw another deep breath. Just to be sure.

The boy is not his.

I hide my smile and quickly address Narthex, “Thanks for the opulent meal, but you can take away one plate. Grianán feels very ill tonight. I am afraid she cannot join us. The girls will take care of her.”

“And we have to dine with that cold blooded murderer? While the rat pack has fun?” crows Daná, her cheeks puffed with anger.

Sionnach O'Conghaile, placed between Caelestris and Blandita, turns so pale that her freckles bloom like flowers on her milky skin. A four-fingered Elfin hand, flies to her mouth.

The young woman has not changed a single bit since I have seen her last. Against the chest of the clone rests a baby. There is something weird about it.

I begin to ask myself if Luçien actually can produce children.

The shiny appearance of Arcānā catches my eye. She wafts behind her father Narthex, who is serving the main dish with a neutral face. **“Isa!”**

Somehow I am the only one who is able to see her. The other members of the royal family are only able to notice my absolute irritation.

**“Sionnach is family,”** the Force ghost proclaims. **“I made her what she is. Do not hate her for being my creation! She cannot help being a clone. Or having been impregnated twice against her will.”**

My claws ram so hard into the table, that I am sure to never get them out again. “Daná! Dinner is officially over for you! Off with you!”

With a tempo that reminds me of the strange phenomena called Force speed the young princess zooms.

I give Arcānā a ghastly look, who just has a serene smile for me in return. **“Protect and survive!”** she tells me.

My claws are stuck in the table.

There is nothing more smug than a dead Force user trying to spread love and useless gibberish, that some mistake for words of wisdom. I do not possess enough calmness for dealing with the Dead. There is a reason why the members of my tribe never looked back.

Iocus, Blandita, Rubio and Calathus are suddenly around me, making me feel like a queen bee. They get my claws free in no time. Caelestris, six sun years senior to her siblings, just watches us with a big frown.

“That was that,” I say calmly, sinking on my wooden chair. “What is the main dish, dearest Narthex?”

“ _Kleftiko_ , milady.” The valet stands next to me with the same amazing speed that his unofficial grand-children possess. “Lamb, slow-baked on the bone, first marinated in garlic and lemon juice, originally cooked in a pit oven.”

“Ah! Very well then.”

Narthex pulls me a very large glass of white wine, unasked for. He seems to know that I just had another encounter with the world of the Dead.

I gulp the wine down in one go, hoping not to see Arcānā for at least a fortnight.

“There is a lot of _feta_ cheese and _galaktoboureko_ for later on, milady,” Narthex informs me, calming me with every syllable that he speaks.

I drank his words in as much as the second glass of wine that he presents to me.

Arcānā is not a vengeful spirit, but her timing is as disastrous as it had been while she had been alive.

I try to focus on the sweet promise of custard between layers of _phyllo_.

All eyes around the dinner table rest on me; some amused, some in wonderment.

“Normally I do not drink,” I inform my step-brother.

“I see,” Luçien replies non-nonchalant.

“Your visit here stirs a lot of emotions.” The alcohol makes me more daring than I would have been under normal circumstances. “So I wonder, how long would you like to stay?”

He reaches out for his own glass, that only contains water. In mockery, he raises it into my direction. “Forever.”

*******************************************************************

While the children hold their breath in perfect unison, I stare at my step-brother with my mouth wide open. It is Agathos who breaks the uncomfortable silence. “I had no time to tell you yet, my dearest Isabeau.”

“Tell me what?” I ask although I fear that I already knew that this would happen tonight.

Deep down inside me I always had known. It had been in his movements, in the stances between his speeches. Yet I want to hear it from the former prince consort himself.

“Your honoured step-brother has asked to join our household. He deeply regrets the personal and political consequences that the drama of Polysýndeton brought over us. Therefore he offers his services as my personal secretary and advisor.”

_“Φοβού τους Δαναούς και δώρα φέροντας,”_ I announce in the mother tongue of both Agathos and Narthex. Then I add the translation in the ancient language of the Holy Isle, _“Equo ne credite, Teucri! Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.”_

Sionnach O'Conghail looks lost in translation, while Luçien's eyes turn into small slits. He has understood exactly what I just had said.

“My dearest lady”, I address the young Elf, “I just quoted from a very old legend from Terra. My words were: _Do not trust the horse, Trojans! Whatever it is, I fear the Danaans even if they bring gifts._ ”

While she ponders on the meaning of those ancient sentences, her pale face gains some colour. It is like a rose opening its petals to reveal. When it dawns to her, she makes her back straight.

“Honoured sister-in-law, my husband and lord is very disappointed about the shadows of the past.” Her voice is even and clear, with a gentle sweetness about it. “He would like to make amends by all means. Against his father's wishes he offers his services to the royal house of Tjiehenet. He does not seek power nor more vengeance. Healing is his purpose. For that he would serve as the lowest vessel even.”

Whatever I had thought about Sionnach O'Conghail before, I am forced to reconsider it. She is not a well-dressed puppet or a breeding bitch for the litter of the House Ankoù. She is a person with an opinion of her own.

I regret that Grianán is not here to witness so much bravery. She would have liked the clone of her dead baby cousin.

“That may be, _mon sœur_.” Calling her _'sister'_ seems natural. “But the children and I were never asked.”

“I...” begins Luçien, but my hard look silences him. He stares down at the fiery mane of his Elfin foster-son.

“Since Agathos has already made his decision, seeking neither my council nor common sense, I will only say this: this family here did suffer enough in the past. If there is any more heartbreak, I will finish him off. I am not afraid of him, the high score of his Midi-chlorians or the side of the Force he considers himself to be on.”

The silence that follows my speech is rather dramatic, but I cannot couldn't care less.

I cut my lamb with elegant competence, imagining it to be a bait that I sever into pieces.

Killing is a natural act for me since my early childhood. Luçien should had better not force my hand.

For the rest of the meal I do not look up.

*******************************************************************

When I check up on Grianán and her companions later on, she is nowhere to be found. Neither inside the royal pyramid, nor on the Holy Isle itself.

Mora gives me a small holocron cube. “I meant to stop her, but she would not listen. The Shesha in duty feared to inform you.”

I place the holocron on my right palm. It activates itself the very moment that it has skin contact. A small figure is looking directly at me, sad and yet serene.

“Isabeau. When this device finds you, I will be gone to see Mórag. Please forgive me! It is the only way, the only hope. I love you, I always did.”

I hand the holocron back to Mora, who is framed by Aranea and Daná. My calmness makes the girls more afraid than anything else. “How long is she gone?”

“She only stayed to bid us farewell and give us the 'cron,” Aranea bites out.

“Did she leave anything else, apart from ... the 'cron... and her last will?”

Daná shakes her head and breaks out in tears.

I storm down the staircase, kicking sneaky orchids aside.

********************************************************************

My anger grows with every step that I take towards the rancor stables. When I finally reach the Southern end of the island I feel like weighing eight tons.

A priestess leads me to Arcānā's favourite mare.

“Scarlata, my beauty,” I whisper, while her bulky head comes down to meet my face. “How fast can you ride?”

She eyes me with amusement. Then she throws back her head and gives me a mighty roar.

“I thought so.” I pat her large flank with adoration. “Good girl. Then let us have a ride.”

With an elegant jump I mount her, wasting no time in niceties such as a saddle or head gear.

While we make it towards the _porta nigra_ at the other end of the island, my blood rushes in my ears.

“In which region of the planet can I find the Montes Nubii?” I shout down to the lone Shesha, guarding the gate in her gala uniform.

“The reach from the North-wessst down to the North-eassst,” replies the reptile woman.

“Can you be more precise, please?” I mouth sourly.

Right now I am afraid to waste more precious time. I want to catch up with Grianán, before she commits the biggest mistake of her young life.

The guard holds up a scarf, that has a familiar scent to it. “You and the mare will find the young princess. Just follow your nosssesss!”

*******************************************************************

The weather changes from hot and sticky to cold and miserable when the rancor jumps out of the porta nigra.

A thick wall of mist surrounds us.

“And I had hoped it was just a lyrical name,” I complain.

Scarlata grunts loudly to make her own displeasure heard.

“Well, some folk call these mist banks home.” I stroke her broad front lovingly. “Come on, let us find Grianán! She cannot be that far away yet.”

I count on the girl not to use Force speed in order to save her energy. These mist covered mountains are not homeland for her. She might want to be as careful as possible.

“Do you have any clue where she is?” I wave the scarf in front of Scarlata's nostrils. “For I am lost here.”

The beast makes a sniggering sound and starts moving again.

“Let me tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

*******************************************************************

After a little eternity among moss covered granite stones, heath plants and mist banks we spot a tiny figure about four yards away from us.

Her first impulse is to run away, but then Grianán considers to stop moving. She stands still, her head bowed.

“Silly thing,” I tut.

She gets on her knees, expecting me to have her head for her impertinence.

I glide from the rancor, who helpfully bends her massive and muscle packed body for me.

Tears hang in Grianán's long and golden eyelashes. I smell them as much as her uncertainty.

“If you want to be a tool of revenge, ma petité, then learn the ways of the desert first. It will cleanse your mind and toughen your body.”

Her chin slowly rises, revealing her swollen eyes.

“I will let you go to those dreadful temple sisters, when I consider you to be ready, much as I dislike it,” I move on. “Your training will be though, make no mistake. You will bleed. You will face a lot of hardships and your greatest fears.”

“But how can you do all this right under his nose?”

I smile. “You always had a feeble health, _ma petité_. The lush jungle climate is not good for you at all."

********************************************************************

Agathos and Narthex are not very happy when I tell them about my plan to send Grianán and her best friends away. We have our first quarrel ever.

Narthex stands next to the oven plates. His thin lips are trembling with anger. In the lamplight of the kitchen diner the age-lines in his face look hard as steel. He seems much older than fifty-tree sun years right now. His olive coloured face darkens in an unhealthy way. “This is madness. Just because you are paranoid...” he gasps.

“I am not!” I strongly disagree.

My fist smashes down on the kitchen sink. It has such force that all three _café_ mugs jump into the air. With a loud noise they come down again. One falls on the stone floor and breaks. Hot  _café_ splatters everywhere.

“It is essential that you both trust me,” I add much calmer, bewildered about my own emotional reaction.

“You demand too much.” There is an edge in Agathos' voice that I have never heard before. He folds his arms around his chest, leaning against the refrigerator. “We fully understand that there is no love between you and your step-brother. The circumstances were very unfortunate. But...”

“I will not let him destroy this family any further.” Gingerly, I kneel down to pick up the broken porcelain pieces. “Can you not see what a danger he represents in our very midst? The children will end up like this mug. Shattered beyond repair.”

Narthex glowers down on my palm. “You overestimate his yearn to harm them. He admitted to us that he was mislead until quite recently. His fatherhood changed all. It made him a better man.”

I bite on my tongue, spit some blood on the floor.

They pale considerably, because they know it is a declaration of war. But not against them. Against the monster that calls itself my step-brother still.

“This I will only start believing when the sun itself freezes over.”

With this statement I leave the kitchen and not much later I slam my bedroom door behind me as dramatically as I possibly can.

*******************************************************************

Chrysotil does not turn into a ball of ice the next morning, but Grianán stands in front of my bed with a mug of steaming _café_. Its smell tickles in my nostrils, carrying sweet promises.

“Why did you come down the pyramid?” I ask her, whipping the sleep from my eyes. “He could have seen you.”

“Luçien and his family stay at the other end of the island,” Grianán replies calmly, holding the mug closer to my face. “I also know ways to get to this bungalow, that not even you know.”

This annoys me. “How can I protect you when you keep secrets like this to yourself?”

She smiles one of those mysterious smiles, that I dread so much. “The Force is with me, always.”

“Great.” I reach out for the _café_ and take some sips from the mug. “Has it ever occurred to you, ma petité, that any Force stunt pulled by you causes a disturbance in the Force itself? It is like a stone thrown into a salt lake. You could leave waves.”

“The Mother Jungle is full of life forms. Including other Force users. Within it, I am shielded well.” Grianán sits down next to me, her care-free grin wide and impish. “There is also a secret pathway between dad's bedroom and the pyramid. He and mom were married, you know.”

“Fovea centralis and I need to have a word”, I mutter into my mug.

How am I supposed to reign this world, when I am not even informed about tiny details like secret passageways?

Grianán looks nonplussed. “I already spoke with dad and granddad.”

“Why am I not surprised?” My voice is like acid.

“Because you know that I am full of surprises myself?” Grianán wiggles her naked feet.

I shrug my shoulders, defeated.

It would have been a better strategy to let Grianán explain why this separation is necessary.

“Yes, you should have, Isa,” she says. “There was no need to break anybodies heart.”

I raise my right index finger in warning. “My thoughts, your thoughts. That is a lesson you should learn.”

She blushes a little.

“It is a bad habit, Grianán. One you should get rid of when you want us to get along in the desert. Privacy is the greatest good that a nomad can have. Especially when it is about the freedom of the mind.”

To see her nod eagerly in acknowledgement eases me a lot. “So what did your father and Narthex say?”

“They want visiting rights as often as possible and that you leave Daná, Caelestris, Iocus, Blandita, Rubio and Calathus with them.”

“They mistake me to be a child thief like Her Holiness. I do not take children away from their cradle, because I feel that they are gifted,” I sulk, putting the empty mug on my night desk.

“Father and grandfather just fear losing more beloved ones. They never saw Luçien the way that you did, Isa. To them he is a good person. Nothing more, nothing less.”

A good person.

I remember a dreadful vision that once had occurred to me at night time.

The angry human stands in the middle of a desert camp. He carries a sabre made out of light. His face is a mask of hatred.

One by one, he kills the veiled nomads. The men, the women, the children. Even their pets and their mounts.

Nothing in that camp survives. He just killed them all. They had been like animals for him. Animals with no common sense or real feelings.

Luçien has a lot in common with that misled human man.

“One could cause a lot of evil by trying to bring peace and order to the galaxy by all means,” I muse aloud.

“I will just be myself, Isa,” Grianán announces. “Wild and free. There is no need to worry.”

I snort. “I wonder if the universe is in need of a wild and free Force user. There should be rules for those strong in the Force. A code that binds them. Some sort of council of wise men and women who make sure that the code is obeyed.”

But deep inside me I ask myself how to decide who is wise, and see that they live by it while given such power?

Grianán laughs heartily. “Éleos always ponders on how things should be. How beings who live in symbiosis with the Midi-chlorians should spend their entire lives learning. How to achieve a balance in the Force. How the powers of a Force user can be used for the common good.”

I leave my bed, stretching my limbs with a soft moan. “It is good that at least one person in this family reflects on such issues.”


	23. Chapter 23

Breakfast was to take place without Grianán and Dana. They were on their way to Sendero already.

It had been agreed that I would follow in a couple of sun days, taking Iocus, Blandita, Rubio and Calathus with me for what I called a 'field trip'.

Agathos and Narthex had finally given in, while we the three of us had been in the kitchen together, preparing the food and the drinks: _café_ , hard boiled eggs, olives, feta cheese, thick rye bread and rich pastries with more goat cheese fillings.

Things had settled between the three of us. A fact for which I was grateful. I love those two fools a lot.

Humming old lullabies of the Ophidea to myself I carry the bread basket and the egg basket onto the veranda.

A gloomy Luçien stands at the edge of the table, waiting for my arrival. The entirety of his body language reminds me of my acquaintance from the future: the man in the mask, bringing terror and heartbreak into the city in the clouds.

“You should reconsider your choice of garment. Something more light and airy. Your cape is also a wrong choice for a jungle landscape like this. You could get caught in the trees while you try to fetch your sons from danger. Go for a tunic.” I advise him.

Then I turn away again and walk through the veranda door once more to get the two coffee pots. Narthex is getting too old for running around with full trays.

“Isabeau, stop messing with my feelings!” my step-brother clips out behind his war mask.

“As long as I do not mess with your food, things should be perfectly all right.” I check the arrangements of the plates, trying not to meet his intense blue eyes. “Not that I wish to poison you, but I would not be unhappy about you dying long before I do.”

“You cannot go on hating me forever.”

I raise my chin proudly. “I will with every breath that I take.”

“It was not my intention to split this family apart even further,” he insists.

“Grianán has a feeble health since her birth. It is a miracle that she made it so long.” I resist the impulse to chase a big beetle from one of the shining white porcelain plates. “Daná loves her very much and decided to stay at her side.”

“I still get the impression that all this happened because of me. As if you would fear that her children are not safe with me.”

In my mind I spot the angry young man from the far away future.

_**He is cutting through a room full of toddlers. His eyes are full of tears, but he moves his sabre of light with cold precision anyway.** _

“Are you still drinking your _café_ black?” I ask, pushing away the disturbing vision.

Suddenly, Luçien stands right in front of me. Éleos and Sereno are also able to do that particular Force trick. And I despise it. No being should be able to move so quickly.

“Isabeau, I promise you that I will not harm her serpent-spawn in any way. I owe that to Agathos. And to you. I know that these children mean the world to you.” He gazes down on me with a gentleness that makes me sick. “Actually I am very surprised that you learned to love another being that very way. You were always very selfish when you were little. I always thought that the trauma of losing your family caused that.”

I use one of the breathing techniques that Éleos taught me. Instead of depending on my chest only, I use my stomach. Calmness settles down in me immediately. “There is a lot of things that you do not know about me. I actually ask myself if you ever really knew me.”

Despite her wooden leg Sionnach O’Conghaile hurries towards us and takes my breath away with her beauty. Her hair is donned a dark brown tunic, very simple in its cut, yet rather elegant. Her waist long hair is a mix of amber and honey. The pale Elfin face has the shape of a triangle with a pair of amber coloured eyes and small lips. She wears no make-up or jewellery.

_“Ma petite sœur,”_ I address her cheerfully, meaning every word of it. This one has suffered a lot in the past. The secret service files on her had been hard to bear. “I hope you slept well.”

When I come closer to give her the traditional kiss of greeting, she shrieks back from me by sheer instinct. I start to wonder how she had survived the serail so long and so successfully. Exchanging cheek kisses is essential between the women folk.

Luçien wraps his arms around his wife in a protective gesture. “May I ask you, what you want to drink for breakfast, Sionnach?” I ask neutrally.

Sionnach cannot help being that jumpy, I decided on her behalf. Her husband is a notorious assassin of the infamous Brotherhood of Shadows. Of course Luçien never would bring evidence of his work home, but I am somehow aware that she knows a big deal about him. More than I ever had. But I am only his exiled step-sister. She is the women who shares a life, a bed and the upbringing of her children with him. Perhaps pillow talks make him rather talkative.

“I would like to have a spiced _chai_ tea.” Sionnach tries to smile bravely at me, while Luçien softly squeezes her shoulders.

“Chai tea? I will ask Agathos about it.”

As quick as possible, I bounce back into the kitchen, where the senator and his valet make the last breakfast preparations.

*******************************************************************

In the weeks to follow Sionnach tries her best to cope with the jungle and its humid climate. Her bravery is astonishing, but I can see her fading away right in front of us. Her cheeks get more peaky with each day. Dark shadows start to form under her eyes and begin to deepen. The Undead might be to blame for that, but I also feel guilty for her deteriorating health. She regards me as some kind of beast, keen for her blood. With great anxiety she gazes at me during each meeting.

It is no big surprise for me when Luçien announces that his family will leave the Holy Isle and that he will accompany them on their journey home.

I know exactly where they are all going to, but I remain silent about that.

My step-brother has no clue how possessive Arcānā had been. The case files on the clone have never been closed. Actually, I have full access to them, but until now I have not really bothered much. Her life belongs to herself, at least it should from my point of view. Plus I do not need any more sad stories around me.

True, the royal family is my concern, but Sionnach, in a twisted way the cousin of my wards, is not on my priority list.

When the royal household says good-bye to our visitors, I wave them out enthusiastically.

Luçien gives me one of his queer looks, before he enters his space ship, but that is okay for me. My grin widens as the ramp closes.

Sionnach's departure means freedom for all of us. It annoys me though that Narthex and Agathos plan a reunion in the Vallum Ventii already.

Draught, supplicants from all over the kingdom, dark passage ways and a dusty library are no reason for me to get cheerful about. Luckily, I do not need to face the severe frost of a certain mountain chain for another six months, because I am still training Grianán, Daná and a certain set of handmaidens.

The spear is said to be a good basic weapon, and is recommended as the first weapon anyone learns with. I can fully agree with that. Its sheer weight helps to build upper body stamina and strength.

It might take another year before I allow the four girls to learn about swords. But I am not any under particular time pressure. When I am not around to tutor them, I have the finest military teachers of this planet to help me out.

I remain standing on the landing platform, even though the ship is long gone and the midday rain has started to wash over the jungle.

In the late afternoon I have a visit to pay to one of the scientists of the underground laboratories. It is about the foundling that Grianán picked up two years before the Polysýndeton drama.

I start walking towards the stair case.

By saving the unwanted child from death Grianán made Luna my responsibility ever after. In the beginning I did mind that a lot, but by now it feels wonderful to play an important part in somebody else's life.

Luna just adores me and, to be honest, I feel some affection for her since our first meeting. The strength with which she took my index finger astonished me and her eyes told me that I was dealing with a survivor.

On my home planet an unwanted baby would not have made it without the support of its clan or any family member to claim it.

********************************************************************

Motionless, Saeta Bona Merkhet waits in front of her home. For a change, she is not donned in her laboratory coat, but wears a cheerful sari. Her white blond hair is donned in a strict topknot, When she beholds me, a small smile appears on her face.

“Please, no bowing!” I prompt. “Also no foot kissing or other forms of honour. I am here in private.”

I hate the local foot fetishism most.

“As you wish, Holy Consort.” Saeta gives me a curt nod, but her dark green eyes are filled with glee. “But let me point out to you that touching elders' feet – not kissing – is an integral part of the tradition of Cunabula.”

I refrain from sticking out my tongue like a little grin. “Let's talk business, then! You have a problem with Luna?”

She shakes her head. “Not a problem, no. It is more a request.”

I already can imagine what it is. “Luna is too young to serve queen and country,” I answer.

“Pardon me for saying so, but your people also start to teach their kittens about warfare this young.” Her gaze is unwavering. “If my daughter wishes to participate the training of Aranea and Mora, I will not hold her back. She is strong in the Force and a keen warrior.”

“This is why all the statues in your front garden are headless, right?”

Saeta sighs. “Children are usually the first sacrifice in war. This is why everybody on this island sees to it that our off-spring gets good training.”

“Which war?” I ask.

Sadness creeps into her eyes. “The Star Wars were never over. We can grow orchids where the cut off heads of our enemies used to lie, but it does not change what we are. What we have become.”

“You make it sound as if it only happened yesterday and not many centuries ago.”

“I am a scientist, Holy Consort,” she gives me to consider. “My speciality is the evolution of humanoids. My race and yours are blood thirsty, but mankind is the greater danger. Look at Amnion and what brews in its city states.”

I raise a brow. “An epidemic?”

“Xenophobia is indeed an epidemic,” Saeta agrees. “The humans of Amnion have the means to destroy all of us, because we are not pure-blooded any more.”

“This is why you want me to train Luna together with the rest of the girls?” I roll my eyes at her. “Isn't this a bit far fetched?”

“I want the child that I accepted as my daughter to be well prepared, when times are changing.”

I see the hard core of steel that the woman in front of me is made of. “Times are always changing, Saeta. Like sand dunes.”

My words make her kneel in front of me, but her posture remains proud. “Luna is part of Grianán's life, since the princess found her in that wicker basket. Even at her young age she understands this.”

Life debts are such an annoying hype around here. _“D'accord,”_ I sigh. “Right then. But I will not pamper Luna in any way. She will get the same treatment like everybody else.”

Saeta reaches out for one of my hands, before I can hinder her. Her lips are warm and soft. “Blessed be, Holy Consort!”

A small face peaks around the corner of the bungalow house.

“Luna, I give you an hour to pack,” I advise the child.

“No,” she says and zooms towards me, carrying a little bundle with her.

“You are well prepared,” I praise her.

“She is my daughter,” Saeta replies and her feature show great tenderness as she gazes down on Luna.

********************************************************************

Each hour spent in the desert of the Mare Coloris is a blessing for me. No politics, no religion, just the laws that apply to the rule of tooth and claw. I teach my protégés all that my clan once taught me and they drink it all in.

Daná is way better with a staff than Grianán, but the latter is very skilled in the 'Dance of War', better known as caporeia.

As for Aranea, Mora and Luna – they are all poisonous snakes. They do their exercises with such deadly elegance and precision that it occurred to me that I have carved three further lances since the drama of Polysýndeton.

The future will show which of my weapons is the most lethal to Luçien.  
But this is more than revenge. The girls simply flourish from their stay in the desert. Besides all the self-defence and attack techniques they learn how to travel with the cattle during the rain season.

They take part in tribal rituals and household tasks.

I am very proud of them, even though I make a mental note to let Grianán stay away from cookery pots. All that she prepares has either a strange taste or is a sore to the eye. She also manages to let almost everything look like a disgusting stew pot.

*******************************************************************

In the week before her ninth birthday Grianán and I rest on a hill top close to the village. Daná, Aranea, Mora and even little Luna do some sparing with the village girls.

Heartily, I yawn into the lazy silence.

Grianán, always a keen student, already had excelled today and deserved a little break. Her blond head rests on my belly, while I am lying flat on the soil. The giant tree trunk grants us but little shadow shadow.

At present the forest of monkey bread trees – known as Adansonia – is without leaves and therefore without any twilight. Only when the monsoon arrive this seemingly cursed place will be a green oasis of life again. Then the haggard branches will carry juicy, white blossoms. Until then there will be no real protection from the strong sunlight.

A comicus – a funny looking dune cricket - walks hastily over the dusty, ochreous forest soil.

I smirk when I hear that the chitin shell of the insect breaks with a horrendous crack. Then further cracking noises are to be heard in rhythmical intervals.

When Grianán has finished chewing I ask with a mix of tenderness and curiosity, “Is indeed all well with Sereno? I have the feeling that you try to hide something from me.”

The recent letters of the young Prince seem forced. They also have lost their regularity. The boy is hiding something from me.

I go for the straight approach. “You and your siblings treat me like a retard at times, without even knowing you are doing so. The Force may unite you, but it separates me from you lot. It is not fair that you have means of communication that I can never posses. How am I supposed to know what is going on with Sereno?”

Grianán sighs softly, before answering, “We did not mean to shut you out.”

“Righty, ho!”

“It is just very difficult at times to put our feelings and sensations into words.” She sounds hurt. “Besides, when we have a surprise for you, it should stay one until the right moment has come.”

I huff, before saying, “My traumatic experiences with so-called surprises are piling up to a mountain already.”

“This one you will like, Isa.” Grianán sounds very reassured and certain.

Suddenly, Éleos is looking down on us. _“Disturb? Mi dipiace molto.”_

“Of course you are not disturbing us. We just had a usual _siesta_.”

Grianán gets up to greet her older brother that she has not seen for a couple of sun years. Neither have I.

I pop up on my elbows to have a better view.

While I scan the prince, I cannot help to notice that he has grown into strapping young lad. His facial lines have lost the sweetness of childhood completely. His limbs have gotten longer and leaner.

But the promise of manhood is also in the way Èleos carries himself. He moves with the self-assurance of a druid.

In the back of my mind an image flashes up.

There is an island. And on it is a lonely human being; a bearded man starring out to the horizon. The man wears robes of some kind.

Who ever that man is, he is of no importance to me. I am sure of it.

“You are supposed to be with your Elfin foster-parents,” I remark.

“Our beloved nanny that matters to us,” Èleos muses.

Gallantly, he helps me up, making me feel like I am a fragile Elfin princess. His sweetness has something annoying, but his grey eyes make my anger melt away all to easy.

“Especially on a celebration day like this one should be with family, _n'est-ce pas_?” he adds with a wink to Grianán.

I know the feast days of the Draconian calender by heart, including the Elfin High Feasts. Today is supposed to be a common day, nothing special scheduled.

“What is the meaning of all this?” I inquire.

“You will see,” laughs Éleos. “Just lean back and relax! We take care of everything.”

Not much later I am dragged towards the village, Grianán and her older brother framing me like body guards.

********************************************************************

The next sun hours there is much laughing and chatting. Yet a part of me keeps feeling uncomfortable.

The villagers of Sendero have joined in into our family union. Tons of food are carried onto the village square, but they do not consist of regional plants and dishes. I spot _gyros_ , _tzatziki_ , _mousaka_ and _baklava_.

Narthex is sitting in the shadow of a tent roof, giving orders in plain Basic. Agathos is right at his side, beaming in a way that I have not seen in ages.

I approach the two Amnionian men slowly, trying not to collide with people carrying stuff.

“What sort of feast is this going to be?” I ask, keeping a lit on my temper.

The _munson_ , the rain period, is still too far away to deliver a credible explanation for all this party business.

My thoughts make the strangest loops, but I come to no satisfactory conclusions.

“It is a baby shower. Sereno is going to be a father,” beams Agathos, his eyes shimmering with tears of joy. “He heard it this morning from his wife.”

“What?”

He must be talking about another Sereno.

Not about the persistent boy with apple green eyes who had loved to cling to my knees, when I had sent him off to bed.

The boy used to spit water melon pits in the direction of the Shesha just to check their alertness as the royal bodyguards.

Who slipped into the royal crypts, wanting to smear finger paint on the skulls of his ancestors of the first and second dynasty.

And certainly not the boy who had to touch every animal and plant, no matter if they were poisonous or not.

“He cannot be,” I murmur, half to myself, half to the smiley men that look up to me.

Sereno just has turned sixteen. Of course it was not unusual in my culture or in his own to marry so young, but I fail to believe the news. For me he is still a boy who has wounded knees and a running nose.

“Three moons ago he married in secret. We heard about it at dawn,” Agathos moves on, while Narthex gave helpful villagers orders again. “He stood in front of my bed, Éleos in tow.”

“Married in secret?”

A shadow of the future comes to life without a warning. It is a female voice. She speaks with a trembling, rather excited voice. It is the woman with the sad, brown eyes. The one who will end up with her heart broken by her beloved one.

_**“Annie, I want to have our baby back home on Naboo,” she moves on. “We could go to the lake country where no one would know... where we would be safe. I could go early and fix up the baby's room. I know the perfect spot, right by the gardens.”** _

I silence her voice with all my willpower, concentrating on Agathos again. He must have had a longer speech.

“... first due to the rites of Parhelion, whose priests regard marriage as a holy sacrament, and then due to the rites of Gwenynen.”

I manage to find my own voice again. “Who is she? Her name sounds strange.”

Grianán comes along, carrying a basket of mangos. “She is one of the Gwyllion.”

Very slowly I sink onto the bask carpet, coming down next to Agathos and Narthex.

A Gwyllion, one of the shy Forest Elves of the Silva Lacrimae. Officially, their very existence is denied both by the Daoine Sidhe and the Sleah Maith. It is a delicate matter to which the Ophidiae have closed their eyes until now. The marriage of Sereno is a clear political statement.

_“Une café, s'il vous plaît'!”_ My voice is shaky, while my body in agony. Especially my heart. _One coffee, if you please!_


	24. Chapter 24

Even after Daná comes along to bring me a big mug of local bean _café_ to calm my nerves, I keep feeling horrible.

A dreadful war is on its way. Not a traditional Star Wars, but an Elfin uproar. The intended marriage is a political bomb. A statement the House Tjiehennet should not make. Not now.

There is only me on the empty throne, a descendant of a former slave race. The true heiress, Force-blind or not, is still under-age. In the old days all this would have not mattered, but I have given a promise to a dying queen: to protect her snake-spawn with my life.

I gaze out of the hut I have been placed in.

The desert village is still like an excited bee hive. People keep walking forth and back with food and drink.

I shake my head is dismay.

Love towards the royal off-spring and loyalty to the interest of the Draconian throne are difficult to combine. I do not like to be the bad guy here, the one who has to crash Sereno's heart with her boots. He committed no crime. He is just a youngster who fell in love against all odds.

Suddenly, there it is again: the future. Once again it has caught up with me.

Sighing, I close my eyes in order to be concentrate on the incoming visions.

**_The city is dark apart from a few lanterns. The mourners, recognisable by their clothing and their grave faces, walk in reverent silence._ **

**_Six huge animals, feline by their appearance, drag an open coffin through the streets. The woman inside it looks like a fairy-tale princess ready for a ball night. Like she takes but a nap before all the excitement waiting for her. In her hands she cradles an amulet._ **

I snap my eyes open, annoyed.

That amulet reminds me a lot of the one my mother passed on to me The only palpable memory I have left of her. The rest of my memories had to be retrieved the hard way by a sort of pilgrimage through the dune sea of Sapuhru. Luçien had tempered too much with my brain for whatever reasons.

As I put the mug away, a huge shadow appears in the door frame.

“The lost boy has returned,” I smirk, while my proud feline heart melts inside my chest.

As Sereno saunters towards me I can see that he is dressed in the suede clothing of a true Gwyllion. His blond hair has shoulder length and flowers are woven into it. To be exactly, a dozen of white orchids of the royal pyramid. They are held alive by his unusual Force skill that the priestess Clementia refers to as 'plant surge'.

“You look well.” I gaze into a face that has become rough around the edges. Into eyes that have a knowing look and no more childish innocence in it. Quickly, I add, “But you are troublesome as ever.”

His mischievous smile widens. It actually reminds me of a grinning bobcat, that are common in the region of his bride.

“You are my substitute mother. Not to invite you to my wedding would have been a huge insult.”

“I still feel like scratching your eyes out, boy,” I snarl and bare my teeth to him.

Fearlessly, Sereno plops down next to me, reaching out for my hands. “I have missed you, prickly or not.”

In one swift move, I cup this neck with one hand and press his brow against mine. Then I take a deep breath.

He smells of fur trees and love's bliss, of wilderness and camp fire.

I begin stroking his left cheek with my free hand. “You can smile as much as you like, but the political landscape of Draconis will never be the same.”

“The only thing constant is change. That is at least what my Lidérc nanny used to say.” He winks at me. “She is true nomad stock, you know.”

I try my best not to fall for his _charme_. “Diplomacy is a hard-won art form nonetheless. You even made your father and your grand-father drop their usual countenance.”

Sereno twitches his nose. “Hey, I did listen when grand-pa gave us history lessons.”

“Why am I not fully convinced here?” I demand to know.

“Ever since the peace treaty of Dún Barr was signed the first prospect of the Holy Isle is: 'Love as thou wilt'. What can possibly be wrong with love and flower power?”

Of course he tries to rub the most sacred Thelema of his people straight into my face.

_“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law,”_ I correct Sereno. “And what you seem to forget is that your duty is not only to yourself. The Thelema also speaks about your duty to others, to mankind, basically to all other beings and things.”

Something like anger creeps into his eyes and he jerks away from me. “Have you never been in love?”

“Love is a luxury I never had any time for,” I say without regret. “There were children to rear, a throne to keep safe for your sister Celestris and two old fools to argue with constantly.”

His pupils widen in shock. “You mean that you have never...”

To strangle him would achieve nothing. “I thought that I taught you politeness towards a true lady at least.”

“But...”

I roll my eyes at him. “Just because you already started a tribe of your own, not everybody else around you needs to.”

“Pardon me for asking, Isa, but did you not at least...”

“No, Sereno. As I have already said: there was no time and no reason.”

Baffled, he takes me in. “But you are beautiful.”

“A lot of but 's come out of your mouth, boy,” I rebuke him.

Stubbornly, he juts his chin forward. “Did you inspire Éleos to do the same?”

“What?” I blink in quick succession.

“He says that a Force user should fully concentrate on the Force instead of bothering with a lover or a family.”

“What your twin brother does, is fully based on his view of the universe. If he wants to be chaste as fresh fallen mountain snow, than let him.”

Frustrated we stare at one another like two warriors pausing in battle.

It is Sereno who cannot stand the heavy silence any more. _ **“Our baby is a blessing,”**_ he assures me.

His voice mixes with somebody else's. Darker, deeper, more passionate and in denial.

I almost choke on my own tongue.

“Isa?” Sereno asks uncertain.

There they are again, the voices of the future. So strong, that I have to release them from my head somehow.

_**“Two liquid gems, indescribably precious-because they were his. He had earned them. As he had earned her; as he had earned the child she bore. He had paid for them with innocent blood.”** _

********************************************************************

Later on Narthex tells me that I have done a lot of screaming. That my eyeballs have rolled back and forth continuously. That there had been white foam all over my mouth and chin.

It had taken the entire royal bunch to get hold of me for I had fought like a madwoman.

Umbra, the village elder, had to carry my unconscious body into her hut. There the local shaman woman had sent the Tjiehennet off-spring away. Only when the last unwilling child had left, she started to drive out the so-called demons.

It took me an entire week to recover from my spasm. Therefore I had missed the entire baby shower. But that was not the hardest thing. I had not been able to wave Grianán out. She was with Her Holiness Mórag MagUhidir now.

“I will never able to forgive myself,” I mutter from my sickbed.

Èleos sits next to me in full lotus posture, also called _padmasana_. There are deep shadows under his eyes. “Please do!” he begs me. “We live this very moment. The future is an event that has not has taken place yet. The Force is always in motion and with it life itself. It is by far too early to determine the bloodline of our family.”

“But there is a change it will intermingle with the one of Dealg, the Force bender.”

He gives me a sad smile. “The famous sky walker?”

“That being is Luçien's father, not old Alezan Ankoù.”

The young man seems to consider my revelation. “But via Cousin Sionnach my house and his already became one.”

I shake my head. “Eibhear is not his. Nor Rune. They have different fathers. And the twins are among the Dead of Polysýndeton.”

“I never knew he lost any children to the Force storm that Adamah conjured.” There are tears in the corners of his eyes. “That explains a lot.”

“No, it doesn't. He was a religious fanatic even before Doom's Day. Did it ever occur to you that he is from the Secret Guild? The one that hunts Force witches and Force wizards?”

Èleos shifts his fingers into a pensive mudra that I recognize from Clementia. “The Sons of the Dawn?”

“Wrong. Their lot calls themselves _Ordo Hermeticus Aurorae Rubrae_.”

“ _Hermetic Order of the Red Dawn_ ,” he translates into plain Basic. “But they are dangerous and forbidden.”

“Am I the only household member who regularly goes to those secret service meetings?” I snap.

He looks confused.

I prop up on my elbows, feeling the solidified loam as a hard reality. “When you really want to be the founder of a monk order who protects this realm, then start thinking in big terms. One sand ant is not a problem. Their entire nest is.”

Silently, he gazes at me.

“My step-brother has a carte blanche that allows him to interrogate a Force-sensitive on any planet of this sun system at any time and by any means. Do you have any idea what would happen to somebody like Grianán who can talk to the Dead?”

His deep frown looks ugly on his otherwise charming face. “But his religion is not ours.”

“The madness of the god queens has been a problem for many inhabitants of this sun system for aeons. Of course the strangest alliances have formed. Ask Misera, if you don't believe me.”

He makes a defensive hand movement. “Of course, I believe you. But this sounds so queer. So contradictory. Basically, without any logic behind it whatsoever.”

I grant him a grim smile. “Welcome to my reality!”

His next question is no big surprise for me. “Could His Lordship really harm our Gri for what she is?”

I cannot help raising an eye brow at the young man. “Do you think I gave my utmost to steal her in body and soul just because I like a bad pun? Because I am brutal? If she ever falls in the hands of that villain, I want her to survive that trial.”

“Would it not be easier to kill him instead?” Èleos asks too hopeful.

“The easy path is always the one to the dark side,” I remember him. “Besides, your sister never goes for the easiest approach. She is like a complicated present box. You never know what to expect from her resourceful mind. I want no clarity for Luçien either. She will be either his greatest triumph or his doom.”

In unease he bites into his underlip. “What about Daná and the girls?”

“There always has to be a backup plan. One Force user alone is not enough to save the day as you may have noticed.”

“You are indeed a cunning she-warrior, Isa,” Èleos praises me.

“I am all that the royal House Tjiehenet needs me to be. Nothing more, nothing less. Solitaire was wise to choose me for a mission she could not complete on her own. I simply took over from her.”

He crooks his blond head. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Child education is never easy,” I quip. “This is why both your father and your grandfather have grey hair by now. I will simply go on a suicide mission for you lot, when I feel that high age catches up with me.”

********************************************************************

When the great day finally is there, I am made to stand in the birth tent, Agathos by my side.

Shortly after our arrival we had been separated from the rest of the royal family, who had also come along.

Gwenynen is already in labour, so we have been led to her and her nervous husband Sereno.

I am sad for the young Elfin woman that her own parents cannot be with her right now. Tawelydd and his Ophidiae wife Ianua had been killed by a hunting party of Elfin noblemen last summer. I will ask the secret service to investigate in that matter.

There have been more cold blooded murders like this in recent time. The life of a Gwyllion is not worth anything at all to those Elves who consider themselves to be of true blood. Those radical individuals actually refer to themselves as High Elves or the High Ones.

Sourly, I press my lips together.

Racial thinking is always a dangerous matter. It brings a lot of unnecessary pain and sorrow. Even I have learned to peacefully live with other races since I have stepped on Draconian soil.

There also had been a lot of issues to rethink about the Force and its users. Arcānā's children have indeed taught me much about tolerance. The Gwyllion are busy to teach me a new lesson.

After the Thousand Year Long War this tribe of forest loving Elves have mixed with their former enemies, the reptile blooded Ophidiae. It has happened peacefully and in deepest respect for one another.

The birth of Sereno's child is another strong link being forged between the two different humanoid races.

To be among the copper skinned Gwyllion, who look more like humans than Elves, is a very strange sensation. No history lesson by some impersonal teaching device for children – holocrons – could have prepared me for the extraordinary beauty that I am to witness.

The Forest Elves live high in the tree tops of the _juniperus saxicola_ and the mammoth trees. Their tree villages, constructions of wood and wicker, can only be reached by rope ladders and pulleys.

To hear that the tribe of Sereno's wife calls themselves Adar, the bird people, comes as no big surprise to me. Especially after I have climbed six hundred meter up to their village square.

Agathos has travelled up here with his private shuttle. Considering his age and physical condition I can live with that. The village of Fan Cill have been worth the trouble of aching muscles and sore hands.

The Forest Elves themselves are also a very astonishing sight. They wear vegetable tanned leather and fluffy animal pelts. The garments are elaborately decorated with feathers and wooden pearls. The ornaments of both the Ophidea and the Elfin nations are displayed, forming new patterns and symbols.

All in all the Gwyllion look more well fed than usual Elves and are much smaller in height. Their movements though are as graceful and fluent, yet more lively. That formal stiffness that characterises other Elves is fully absent. They have the energy of songbirds, fluttering from branch to branch.

They carry their hair long without exception. Some wear it free and others in more artful styles, to which flowers, leaves or feathers are attached.

Most faces shine in that special copper tone of Gwenynen's, but there are faces as fair-skinned as Sereno is. The races are still mixing, right under the nose of the Draconian government and the Elfin nobility. I notice many elderly Ophidiae who come from the desert regions like Umbra.

There is so much to see for me, that I move as slowly as a bantha cow making her way over a very steep dune.

I watch Sereno holding the tiny hands of his wife. She is about one head smaller than he is. Her lips are like that of a little bird. With a trembling mouth he breathes a soft kiss against her brow.

Gwenynen has much in common with her sister-in-law Grianán. One thing is very different though: her soothing scent. The Forest Elf smells of pine needles, sun flowers and honey. It is an intoxicating, teasing odour.

Unfortunately, it provokes the future.

**_“From the moment I met you…_ **  
**_all those years ago…_ **  
**_not a day has gone by when I haven’t thought of you._ **  
**_And now that I’m with you again…_ **  
**_I’m in agony._ **  
**_The closer I get to you, the worse it gets._ **  
**_The thought of not being with you… I can’t breath._ **  
**_I’m haunted by the kiss_ **  
**_that you should never have given me._ **  
**_My heart is beating…_ **  
**_hoping that kiss will not become a scar._ **  
**_You are in my very soul… tormenting me._ **  
**_What can I do?_ **  
**_I will do anything you ask._ **  
**_If you are suffering as much as I am,_ **  
**_please, tell me.”_ **

Sereno is too occupied to notice what is going on in my mind. Slowly and lovingly he kisses Gwenynen's knuckles. I count five knuckles, which is very human like and not Elfish.

Regarding the future, I am suddenly glad that they have chosen to be open about their relationship. To life a lie is a dreadful thing to do.

The Forest Elf smiles at her husband, her small girlish face full of peace. There is no pain when the child arrives. Nobody is dying. All is well. Whatever the future just tried to tell me, it is irrelevant.

The parents of the baby are united. Their families witness their deep love. It is also a single child and no twins.

By now it seems to me that the entire Adar tribe tries to squeeze into the birth tent, too.

Agathos took hold on one of my shoulder blades. I heard him crying almost soundlessly, being overwhelmed with happiness.

“Satisfied, my prince?” Gwenynen whispers. Her bright eyes, shaped like those of a human, gleam like to jaspis stones in the fire light. A dark yellow huge.

“You are wonderful, my little bee. Our daughter is perfect.”

The newborn is cleaned in a large wooden bowl, while the medicine woman takes care of the sweaty mother, who rests on a little mountain of animal skins.

********************************************************************

The name giving ceremony for the newborn takes place several hours later, when the full moon stands high above the tree village. Helygen, the former medicine woman of the tribe and incidentally also the grandmother of Gwenynen, leads us through it.

_“We gather today to bless a child,_  
_A new life that has become part of our world._  
_We gather today to name this child._  
_To call a thing by name is to give it power,_  
_and so today we shall give this child a gift._  
_We will welcome her into our hearts and lives_  
_and bless her with a name of her own.”_

The two hundred year old Elf reminds me of an ancient willow tree, flexible and full of knots in her extremities. Once she had been a stunning beauty. Now she is oozing wisdom. Her snake blood is so strong that I suspect her to die in about fifty summers. She is not blessed with a long unnatural life.

_“To be a parent is to love and nurture,_  
_to lead a child to be a good person._  
_It is to guide them along the right path_  
_and to both teach them and learn from them._  
_It is to rein them in, and to give them wings._  
_It is to smile at their joy, and weep at their pain._  
_It is to walk beside them, and then one day allow them to walk alone._  
_To be a parent is a great gift we have given ourselves._  
_and the greatest responsibility we shall ever have.”_

Sereno cradles his wife in his arms while Agathos brings his new born grand-daughter to the village square.

Mwyaren, a cousin of Gwenynen, holds a block of salt in her hands.

Rhyd, Tan Gwyllt and his blood brother Cwmwly, three young tribal warriors, hold the other ingredients for the ritual: three white candles, three wooden bowls, incense sticks.

The four elements are addressed formally, incense sticks are lit and a circle song rises towards the night sky.

Agathos and I have to circle the freshly baked parents, who now hold their infant girl. The benevolent spirits are invited by our movements and it also helps to keep away the evil ones.

_**This is when I see him the first time, an old man with white hair and the smile of a kind grandfather. But his eyes burn with the fire of the dark side. He mutters, “Power, unlimited power!”** _

I blink for the man is half-way in our time line and half-way in the future. Like Arcānā he produces lightening with his fingertips.

“Go away!” I mutter and his eyes widen.

_**While I snarl at him, he turns into a much younger version of himself and he holds a baby in his hands. “Nagina,” he says. “It means 'pearl' in some regions of this galaxy and 'star' in others.”** _

Through time and space we gaze at one another.

When I attack him right now, the baby dies and I cannot, will not kill a baby.

Not this Nagina, who ever she is, nor the daughter of Sereno.

I will not be a child murder like the young man with the sad eyes. This is not who am I meant to be. “Protect and survive!” I mutter.

Old Helygen snaps her head towards me like a reptile would. I cannot judge her gaze, but her smile is terrifying.


	25. Chapter 25

Apart from all my bleak future visions Heulween is a lovely child. She is easy to please and always smily. The deep bond that her parents share makes her flourish like a pretty autumn flower. With her blond hair and her round face she looks like a dandelion.

Wanting to please the royal household, who had to bear a lot of misery in the recent past, Sereno and Gwenynen stay on with their baby girl. They share a large set of chambers in the family wing of the ancient fortress.

But the young mother has the same feeling about stone walls like me. Just after a couple of frustrating indoor days, she starts to roam the surrounding forests grounds a lot. Sometimes by herself and at others with her large in-law family, including me.

Through Gwenynen's kind eyes I learn to have more regard of the enormous forest of Ceilonwyn. She teaches me about the local forest fruits, fauna and a big deal about herbal plants.

But the golden days do not last forever and the weather changes drastically and so does nature. To soon the leaves of the deciduous trees turn into colourful flashes, sailing down onto muddy forest ground. The rain showers around the midwinter castle increase. They are different from the daily showers of Cunabula, for they bring a dreadful cold with it, that sinks deep into my bones.

But then again, the Night of the Dead, that the Elves call Samhain, always gives me the creeps. It is a high feast that I cannot cherish. A desert nomad never looks back, tries not to remember those who are gone. For my people it brings back luck to call their names.

Within a relatively short time I develop a nasty cold. The result is that I get fed a lot of hot chicken broth by a dedicated Narthex. He also makes me drink a lot of herbal mixtures with lime-blossom honey and my full bladder makes me visit the toilet as much as a pregnant woman.

Even my sauna trips or visits to the nearby hot fountains do not change a single thing for me. My cold clings to me like a vice. It is obvious that my skin longs for the strong solar radiation of the equator.

I stay on though for I do not trust Luçien to stay out of trouble.

The time between the Feast of Mabon and the Feast of Imbolc never is a real holiday for me. It is tough work. I always try to be ahead of him and protect my family by all means.

“I ask myself why he roams the forest at full moon,” I say aloud, interrupting the chess game that Agathos and Narthex are playing. “There is something cyclical about it.”

“You worry too much,” comments the widowed prince consort without looking up. “You always do, Isabeau.”

I snort like an arrogant eopie. “To have Luçien here in this castle is to invite trouble through the front door.”

At this instance the library door flies open and the demon himself appears, a screaming bundle in his arms.

It takes me a couple of heartbeats to recognize little Heulwen. Her face has fine blood marks, glittering drops that speak of an unbelievable crime. The desert robes of Luçien are not clean either.

“What have you done?” My feline senses tell me a story that I refuse to believe. “What?”

_“Conard!”_ yells Sereno while storming into the room as well. He is donned in his felt travel cloak.

Luçien does the unthinkable. In a swift movement he takes of his war mask. I stare into a face that is marked by horror and sorrow.

Perplexed, Sereno lets his short sword sink.

“Your highness, I...”, starts my step-brother, but gets interrupted by a large set of newcomers.

Éleos, followed by a group of Shesha, enters the royal library. “Please milord! Do not harm my brother!” he pleads. “He is out of his mind.”

A strange glow sneaked into Sereno's eyes. “Indeed I am. And you, Viscomte Ankoù, are to blame for it!”

“I besiege you, your liege!” begs Luçien. “Think about your child!”

Before the young man's blade can collide with the Sapuhrian scimitar, my step-brother throws Heulwen into my arms. I catch the screaming baby just in time.

Parade, attack, parade.

Force-lightning crawls over the surface of Sereno's broad sword. “She was the light of my life!” he roars. “I am nothing without her. It is your fault that she is no more.”

So Gwenynen is gone indeed.

I press Heulwen closer against my chest, questions haunting me.

How had it happened? Could I have done anything to prevent it? And what role does my step-brother play in this?

But I have not much time to ponder. The Force is unleashed. This is more than an ordinary duel.

I break out in a cold sweat. “Stop right now!” I demand.

But Sereno does not listen. Yellow fire is in his eyes.

Before I jump between the two fighters, I have enough presence of mind to hand Heulwen over to her great-grand father Narthex.

“Enough!” I state.

Sereno's iron blade, charged with dark side energy, cuts right through my right shoulder.

Disorientated, I fall to the ground.

_**“Noooooooooooooooo!”** _

_**The cape of his cloak is like a black cloud behind him. His gloved hands are clenched to fists.** _

The library windows crumble in a thousand pieces of shards.

I whimper, but not in physical pain.

My sweet, clever boy has seen the dark side in himself. He will either lose himself in it like his sister Adamah before him or return to the light like his mother.

Stars start to dance around me. Bodiless fingers touch my hair and I hear Arcānā whisper straight into my mind, _“Light. Darkness. The balance. It is so much bigger!”_

My fingers reach out for the falling stars.

“It is his choice, not yours!”

There is a lot of running, more shouting and, to my distress, the rattling of weapons.

“No,” I moan as more and more Shesha crowd the room.

The high pitched voice of Heulwen turns into little sobs. I can hear Narthex sing an old Amnionian cradle song to her.

_“Νάνι νάνι το παιδί μου._   
_Έλα Ύπνε ύπνωσέ το_   
_και γλυκά ’ποκοίμησέ το._   
_Έλα Ύπνε από τ’ αμπέλια,_   
_πάρ’ το παιδί μου από τα χέρια._

_Πάρ’ το σύρ’ το στα μαντράκια,_   
_να κοιμάται σαν τ’ αρνάκια,_   
_να κοιμάται σαν τ’ αρνάκια,_   
_να ξυπνά σαν τα κατσικάκια.”_

Tears smart from my half-closed eyes.

_Nani nani my child._   
_Come Sleep make it sleep_   
_and sweetly lull it._   
_Come Sleep from the vineyards_   
_take my child from the hands._

_Take it to the sheep cote_   
_to sleep like a little lamb,_   
_to sleep like a little lamb,_   
_and to wake up like a little goat._

The solemn face of Sionnach O'Conghaile comes out of nowhere. “Be still, milady! You are losing an extreme amount of blood.”

I start to laugh hysterically as her six fingered hands glow in a soft blue light and illuminate the outlines of her aunt's Force ghost. Nobody else is aware of the former god queen.

Agathos rushes over to me and I try to push him away.

Then Éleos kneels down stroke my cheeks, murmuring words of comfort.

And then, only then, it happens. The suicide that was bond to happen.

While everybody has focused on me, they had forgotten about Sereno. He gives me a sad smile and rams the scimitar of his opponent straight into his own heart.

“You stupid boy!” I yelp.

“One child less for you to worry about,” Arcānā says dryly as she dissolves into thin air again. “I take it from here.”

*******************************************************************

Sereno's broken body is taken down to the ice cellar. His wife, already wrapped in white cotton shrouds, is placed next to him.

My ever generous step-brother had instructed the royal Shesha guards and Èleos where to find her sad remains.

It appears that Gwenynen has been slain about two miles away from the stronghold. I cannot imagine anyone being bold enough to attack a person while collecting mushrooms. Not on Draconis anyway. Perhaps I am not imaginative enough.

It angers me that the Force tries to help me out in an unwelcome way.

The voice is that of a man, but I cannot see his face. His words encircle me like a pack of animals.

“It was just before dawn. They came out of nowhere. A hunting party of Tusken Raiders. Your mother had gone out early, like she always did, to pick mushrooms that grow on the vaporators. From the tracks, she was about halfway home when they took her. Those Tuskens walk like men, but they're vicious, mindless monsters.”

I shake my head and stare at the medical examiner, a specialist send by Misera all the way from Cunabula, who is just about to finish her report to me. She is a skinny thing with dark hair.

“Ugly bite marks, indicating a large predator, are all over the princess' body.”

“Any idea who is responsible for them?”

She shrugs. “I reckon it was a wolf. Perhaps it had been a sick individual, infected by rabies or another maddening illness.”

“To be on the safe side, please test her for rabies and the baby, too!” I ask and stare out of the window.

Sionnach and her two sons bid my step-brother good-bye in the castle yard.

I smirk.

Luçien is send on a tricky mission to the Adar tribe. He is to inform them about Gwenynen's demise. Against tradition she is to be buried on the Holy Isle. Agathos and Narthex want to have a tribal burial at Fan Cill. Who am I to oppose the two men?

The place of her burial site does not matter to me. But the fact that she is dead and gone.

What I still do not buy is the story of my step-brother being out on a hunt. He claims that he basically fell over the corpse. There is something awfully wrong about it.

Of course Luçien has a hunting lodge in the midst of Ceilonwyn. The past months secret service showed me digital pictures of it. I also know him to be an excellent hunter, despite of being a male Lidérc. Yet my instincts tell me that this is not the whole story.

The problem with the crown witness is that she is considered too young and too traumatised to be questioned. The main priestess of the Holy Isle advised me against reading Heulween.

Down in the castle yard there is some excitement.

While his children wave bravely, my step-brother slowly rides away on Czarny, his black horse. My heart is not sorry for him. Not even at the sight of his bend body that speaks of guilt and misery.

One fine day I will find out about his exactly role in the entire drama.

The medical examiner humbly takes her leave of me.

It annoys me that I cannot overcome myself to visit the castle vaults. It certainly will devastate my memories of Sereno and Gwenynen. Of the vibrant love that they had shared in life.

Then a vision of the future makes my already bad mood even worse.

_**“The shroud of the dark side has fallen”, says the little green man to a bold headed coloured man and a bearded white man.** _

I know for certain that there are no zombies here in the mountains. The winter had stopped them. Force lightening had burned entire armies of their lot. But the dark side looms in the shadows of Dún Barr anyway. Yet it is not in the hallways and the many rooms. It is in our very hearts. None is safe. Especially not the Force-sensitives.

The far away future has not finished to whisper into my ears. This time its even sends unwelcome sneak previews over my iris.

**_An old man passes by military forces. His eyes are as yellowish as that of a desert hawk. They are the only thing to be seen under his deep hood. His fingers are but thin claws around a walking stick._ **

**_”Everything is according to plan, Lord Vader.”_ **

**_A cackling, mad laugh follows his words._ **

**_An unbelievingly cold breath answers. It comes from the depths of despair, impotence and self-loathing._ **

I stumble back into the presence, and tear a window open.

But it is too late. The cold has taken possession of my soul already. It is there ever since I have seen the light in Sereno's eyes go out.

While the autumn rains whip my face, Daná enters the room.

“There is something in the woods.”

“Luçien has not passed the drawbridge yet, sweety.”

She comes to stand right next to me. Her face is as bony as that of a desert fox. “I am not talking about him. There is some kind of being that kills for joy.”

I am not interested to listen to any more theories. “Gwenynen should not have been out there on her own then,” I conclude frostily. “She was alien to the forest lands around us. Somebody should have joined her.”

“My sister-in-law was as free as a sunbeam, falling through the tree tops,” the girl sulks.

“She certainly is as disembodied as a sunbeam now.”

“There is no reason to be cruel.”

“Face it, sweety!” My eyes burn into hers. “Life is cruel and unfair. All we are is dust in the desert wind.”

“There is more to life than that,” she sniffs.

“Take it from me. There are no mysteries, no big revelations. We all die the very way we entered this misery in the first place, confused and smeared with blood.”

Pale and in tears, Daná leaves the room. I do not care.

The rain, soaking my dress, has increased in the meantime.

When Death truly waits in Ceilonwyn, then I hope it will get Luçien on his way to Gwenynen's kin.

********************************************************************

Fate is not kind. My step-brother is back one day later and visibly unharmed. Via him the Adar tribe asks me to send them the bodies. I give my permission, but I do not join the actual funeral ceremony. Nothing can make me leave the castle grounds. I want to be left on my own.

To die because of a broken heart – _les ennui_ as the city folk of Montségur – is the most stupid reason in the entire universe. It does not seem right. Sereno had always been so strong and compassionate.

One gloomy afternoon, exactly one week after the burial, I am sitting in a rocking chair in the library. My fingernails scratch through the wood of the armrests, leaving ugly marks.

Luçien sits nearby, pretending to read a book. He does not even possess the decency to hold it up the right way. I hate him so much.

My breath comes out in hot, angry puffs.

A side door on the upper gallery opens and my nostrils take in the scent of Gregory Fry, the High Chamberlain.

I raise my head in his direction, trying to play nice. This diligent, loyal and respectable gentleman has nothing to do with my current anger. “Yes, please?”

“Lord MacDubh is in the entrance hall, Holy Consort.”

The Elfin foster father of Sereno. Of course, I totally forgot to notify him about the drama that had occurred in this very library.

“Give me a moment, dear Gregory!” I beg.

“Certainly, milady.”

The discrete closing of a door can be heard.

In my head I count down until ten, then I scream with all my might, _“Merci beaucoup!”_

My step-brother drops his book in shock. “I never meant to...” he starts.

My face is close to his within heartbeats, but I keep my hands of his throat. “I was not talking about you. Not even with you. You are worth less than a grain of dust under my shoes.”

I leave him right where he is, slamming the door in my wake.

This is not a meeting that I look forward to and afterwards there is a little baby girl, who is more important than revenge.

“Heulwen should have been enough for you to go on, you fool,” I mutter.

My winter boots clack loudly over the heated floor boards of the castle. I want the Shesha and everybody else to notice me.

I stop in front of the royal nursery. Inside it Éleos sits astride in a Yoga position, the sleeping Heulwen in his lap.

“Why did he do it?” I confront the young man.

Éleos looks up, his face calm and even. “The past years we found out that we even could communicate with one another when we were on opposite sides of the planet. Yet in the end, not even I knew that he would go so far.”

I bang one of my fists against a cupboard which is close at hand. “I want to understand. Lord MacDubh is waiting for me, keen on a suitable explanation, too.”

“My brother and his wife were soul-bound like a bantha and its nomad rider.”

_“L'emme sœur?”_ I echo, looking unconvinced. _Soul mates?_

Éleos begins fondling the baby. “Isa, since when are strong personalities incapable of giving in to utter despair? Look at yourself and at how outraged you are. You of all persons in this castle should understand that everyone possesses both strengths and weaknesses. Stop blaming Sereno for having loved too much!”

“That cannot happen to you, can it?” I confront him, my arms crossed. “Loving too much, I mean.”

“Love and compassion are central to my life.” He smiles that half shy, half witty smile he possesses since his early childhood. “You are the face of love. Heulwen is a product of love. When you see it this way, one could say that love is all around me.”

“This is why you keep your emotions so hard in check?” I snort.

“To be a Force user comes with much responsibility.”

********************************************************************

While holding Heulwen firmly, Éleos gives me a lecture about those very responsibilities. Explains that he feels them towards his family, including me.

I do not like the fact he speaks about me as if I am an old woman already, fragile and helpless. Too senile to protect House Tjiehenet any longer. His wish to found a paladin order is almost an insult to me. The Shesha will be even less thrilled about his idea than me.

“I know you have this dream since ages, but I fear it will get very crowded at court when you go through with it,” I argue.

“We would be in the background, discreet and reliable,” Éleos insists in a charming way.

I dread having a bunch of young men stumbling around me. The thought that one of them could end up in my bedroom makes me sick. “Why not forming a monk order, that redraws itself from the rest of the universe and is philosophical from dusk until dawn?” I suggest.

“We Force users owe it to the common good to effect the universe, make it a better place.”

“Well, Luçien once said something similar to me, and look where that got him, us,” I sigh.

Gracefully, Èleos rises with Heulween in his arms. “Father and Grandfather are with Lord MacDubh, but we should join them now, don't you think?”

I run a weary hand over my head.

“You are very presentable, Isa,” he assures me. “The pride and glory of House Tjiehenet.”

If such a compliment comes from Èleos, then I can buy it from him without hesitation. He is always truthful and never exaggerating.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: SW is owned by Walt Disney, George Lucas and Lucas Lt.!!!
> 
> Wookiepedia articles helped with my research and inspiration. Thanks for all the hard work by all the different authors who enrich the internet with their knowledge.
> 
> Sources for Chapter 1: The Holy Bible, New Testament, Luke 10:19 KJV


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